A Prank 2 Far
by Sinister Scribe
Summary: Rewrite of my first fic. Prankster invades PPTH with disasterous and funny consequences. Huddy all over the joint. Explicit everything, you don't like, don't read. Character bashing too Cameron and Stacy mostly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, after having sat in front of the computer and stared at a blank document for God knows how long without typing a single keystroke I decided to post this up here. **

**I've come on quite a ways since I first posted this and there will be plot changes later on in the story. **

**Tawny is reworked to be a slightly more human figure and Lorcain might be going through some changes as well. **

**I'm fed up of having this up in adultfanfiction and having no reviews, so I thought I'd put it up here as well and see if y'all want to tell me if it's better or worse. **

**Enough waffling, read and review if yer that way inclined. **

**Ciao, Scribe. **

**Chapter 1: First Blood**

Doctor Gregory House limped into the main lobby of Princeton – Plainsbro and scuttled past the clinic desk as fast as his good leg and cane could propel him. He made it safely to the elevators and used his cane to stab the call button before trying to blend in with a supplies cart.

So far so good.

His head came up at a sudden yell of rage and he turned to see who had been upset so grievously. He knew it hadn't been him. He'd only been in the hospital for all of forty-five seconds, and even for the exacerbating Doctor House that would have been a new record.

He arched a brow and his piercing blue eyes narrowed as a young girl, no more than eighteen came tearing down the corridor.

Well, as fast as anyone can tear when their leg is in a cast to the hip. She hobbled at a surprisingly fast pace and soon drew level with House.

She was breathing hard and blew a stray strand of black hair out of her eyes. She smiled at House as she sidled behind him.

"Don't mind me. Just go about your business." House looked down at her words to see what was in her hand. A roll of cellophane was clutched in one hand, accompanied by a pair of scissors and a roll of industrial strength duct-tape in the other.

Another cry of rage echoed down the corridor and the girl dove into the now open elevator.

"You a doctor?" She asked.

"No, I just like coming here everyday for conversation and company." House deadpanned.

"Oh, hah hah. Here, hold these." She thrust the cellophane, scissors and tape at him before jamming the buttons on the elevator control panel. The doors obediently hissed shut and the elevator obediently began its trek upwards.

"YOU!!" House turned to see who was yelling and saw the biggest orderly that this hospital could legally employ barrelling down the corridor towards him.

He was wrapped rather snugly in a mixture of cellophane and duct-tape.

And he looked none too happy about the situation.

Realisation dawned too late on House as the orderly's fists clenched.

"Oh shit." Was all he managed to say.

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Chase, Cameron and Foreman all looked at the hobbling figure as he entered the room and then cast glances to each other. They had always known that House freely ignored the dress code, but this was weird.

Even for him.

He was covered in cellophane and was that duct-tape over his mouth?

He gestured emphatically to Cameron and then his mouth with his elbow. One of the few things that hadn't been taped to another body part.

Cameron smothered a grin as she rose from her chair and ripped the tape from his mouth, taking a considerable amount of that patented House I'll-shave-when-I-feel-like-it stubble.

"Oowee! You did that on purpose. I'm crippled you know." House mock whined.

"That just makes you an easier target." Foreman put in.

"Shut up and get this crud off of me." House grumbled before going on to answer their unasked question.

"Did you know," he said. "That if you get the lighting just right, you can duct-tape several lengths of cellophane across a doorway and it will be practically invisible to the naked eye?"

Cameron rolled her eyes as she bent to remove a stubborn length of tape that affixed House's cane to his hand. "Really?"

"Yeah, apparently. It makes a really good practical joke; because whoever's in the room comes out and walks right into it, and then they're engulfed in a swath of see-through staticky goodness. Which is all very amusing to onlookers and very amusing to the prankster if he or she happens to be fortunate enough to get away with it." House grimaced as yet another swatch of skin was brutally waxed via duct-tape.

"You're late because you spent the morning cellophaning people's doors and then you got caught?"

House sighed as if explaining to a child. "Nooo. I'm late because someone _else_ put cellophane over Billing's door and then thrust the damning evidence into my hands as they made use of _my _elevator for escaping purposes."

His team stepped away as the last of the tape and plastic was removed from their boss. "Wait a minute," Chase said. "Someone taped _Billing's_ door? That guy's gotta weigh at least three hundred pounds. He did this to you?"

House limped to his chair and sat down with a sigh. "Yup and may I remind you that muscle weighs more than fat."

"Why didn't you just explain to him that it was someone else?" Cameron asked.

House looked at her for a moment.

"Right, you're House. No one would believe you hadn't done it anyway."

"First things first. I want this prankster found. She's about eighteen, six one, black hair green eyes and built like a young Wonder Woman and she has her left leg in a cast to the hip."

"And then?" Foreman asked his voice dripping disdain.

"Well, Foreman I have to admit I'm a little disappointed in you. I would have thought a gangsta such as yourself would know all about revenge." House grinned maliciously as he sent his team to work.

This was going to be fun.

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"House."

The aforementioned Diagnostician looked up at the mention of his name. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he saw Cuddy half in his doorway hanging onto the glass panelled door with one manicured hand as she waited for his full and complete attention to shift from her chest to her face. She propped her hand on her hip as it took slightly longer than usual for him to focus.

"What can I do for you, Cuddy?" He grinned at her in what she supposed he thought was a boyishly charming manner. She knew better.

"I'm here to tell you, since you apparently have stopped answering your pager," her voice was dangerous as she pointedly looked at the small black abandoned box under his left heel that was propped on his desk. "That the donation came through and you can hire another lackey." She strode into the room with the patented Cuddy swing to her hips and dropped a large pile of folders on his desk. "Here's a stack of resumes that I have approved of, pick the one that appeals to you the most." She said on a tight smirk before spinning on one expensive blade like heel and going for the door.

"Cuddy?" House asked as she reached it and nearly walked right out of the room.

She turned to him with an expression of utmost impatience on her face. "What?" She demanded.

"Nice ass today." He told her cheerfully and snatched the folders off the desk to peruse them at his leisure, finally an excuse that was pre-approved to get out of clinic.

"Clinic starts at four." She told him, as if reading his mind and then swung right out of the door. He scowled at her back and then let his eyes trail appreciatively over her form as she stalked down the corridor.

He tore his eyes away and looked to the thickest folder that was on top of the pile.

"Doctor T. McQueen." He muttered and flipped it open to read about T. McQueen's experience. "McQueen might just get an interview for having such a cool name." He mused quietly to himself. Then he grinned and plugged his I-pod into the dock and let Queen fill the room.

Another day of work successfully avoided, damn he was good.

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**Read and review, ye know ye wanna!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: same schtick as previous chapter. Slight changes here but nothing major, mostly grammatical and spelling more than anything else. **

**Don't own don't sue, blah de blah-blah. **

**Meh, apathy and writer's block is cured by nice reviews…hint, hint.**

**Chapter 2: Bastardicity**

House glowered as he battered his over-sized tennis ball against the wall. Being wrapped up like some thanks giving turkey was one thing, having photographs of the whole sordid incident on every hospital bulleting board was quite another.

Who the hell brought a camera to a hospital anyway?

Needless to say, the reclusive Doctor House had become even more reclusive until the whole incident blew over.

Or at least until he could exact his revenge.

He bounced the ball more fervently as he waited for his team to report back. They were snatching yet another patient from the jaws of death. Same old same old. He hated to admit it, but the puzzles that his job presented on a daily basis were rarely as interest piquing as he had previously found them.

He liked figuring things out. Puzzles, riddles, word games. He liked all of that, but what he really liked to figure out were people. Which was quite difficult when House made it his aim in life to be an anti-social bastard.

To each their own.

House was just about to switch on his I-pod and disappear into a soothing world of music when he heard, for the second time that day, a scream of surprised rage.

Thankfully, this scream sounded like it came from something considerably smaller than Billings the orderly. House firmly ensconced himself in his seat and waited. Chances were, that this prankster was the same as this morning's vigilante and he might catch her running by and then he could see where she went.

Then the plotting would begin.

His predictions came true as the girl made an appearance outside his office. She skidded to a halt on her cast and whipped her head around, presumably looking for means to escape. Her eyes lit on something just down the hallway and she disappeared down that direction. House had time to arch a brow in curiosity before Cameron made an appearance.

The door to his office crashed open and House whirled round to see a very angry and very wet Cameron standing opposite him.

"Did you see her?"

House frowned at her sopping state of dress.

"The girl, with the cast on her leg. I thought I'd cornered her in the stairwell but damn, she's fast." Cameron gestured with both arms as she spoke and paced back and forth, dripping on the carpet.

"What did she do?" House had a fair idea but he asked anyway.

Cameron turned to him. "She turned the fire hose on me."

House couldn't help it. Cameron just looked so miserable and so wet. The image of a streaming jet of water crashing into a righteous Cameron was too much to resist.

He threw back his head and guffawed as only an evil genius can guffaw.

It felt like an age since he'd even smiled never mind laughed. Had Cameron been in her usual mood, she would have rejoiced at House expressing himself in such a way.

"Oh it's only funny because it didn't happen to you. You're a right bastard sometimes you know that, House?" House looked at her like this was nothing new to him and she huffed out of the office with a slam of the door.

House shrugged and went back to his ball bouncing. He was working up a nice rhythm when the door to his domain opened once more. He looked up to rip the intruder a new one when the blistering insult died on his lips.

One of the most beautiful women House had ever seen stood in the doorway. She was tall, nearly as tall as he was and dressed in a low V neck black tee shirt and biker leathers, shit-kicker boots encrusted in buckles encased her feet and there was a helmet slung under one arm. She wore black framed yellow lens wrap around sunglasses on her nose that successfully managed to obscure the colour of her eyes.

"Dr House, I presume?" Her voice was silky soft and had an exotic accent that House couldn't place imediately.

"No, actually, I just like sitting in his office." House couldn't help himself.

"Quite." The woman tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and arched a blood red brow at him. He focused on her hair, it was fantastic. It varied in shades from almost white blonde to bloody red right through to streaks of sable.

Tiger hair.

"Well when you see him will you tell him that his nine o' clock is here?" The mystery woman turned to leave.

"I don't have a nine o'clock, besides, it's nearly eleven." House unhooked his feet from the desk and sat up straight, intrigued now.

"Oh, so you are House?" The woman stuck out her hand with a sardonic twist to her full mouth. "Tawny McQueen, nice to meet you."

House took her hand as she lent down and subtly let his eyes drift over her. If he ever saw anyone fill out a set of leathers better than her, he was proposing on the spot. She wasn't skinny, like fashion would dictate, but she had ample curves in all the right places and an almost exaggerated hour-glass figure.

House jerked as the significance of her name hit home. "_You're_ Dr McQueen?"

Tawny took the seat opposite him and let a slow smile curl her lips. "No, I just enjoy masquerading as her." House placed her accent as Anglo Franco, almost like someone form New Orleans.

House smirked. She had guts, he liked that. "What brings you to Princeton-Plainsboro? Judging by your resume you could pretty much work anywhere.'

"You." Tawny shrugged. "Your reputation precedes you." She said by explanation as House raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I wanted to see if you were as bad as the tales go."

House shook his head rapidly. "All lies. Except for that stuff about nailing the boss, that's true." House bobbed his eyebrows suggestively.

Tawny nodded slowly. "You too, hmm?"

House was dumbstruck for a moment before he saw the laughter crouched in the corner of Tawny's mouth. "You're good," he admitted. "You almost had me there. How long do you plan on working here?" House's curiosity couldn't let him quite let go of his business side, teeny little guy that he was.

"Oh, not long. A few months at most."

House frowned. "Just passing through? I don't know if the boss lady will go for that, she's kinda possessive of all the good doctors that enter the doors around here."

Tawny shrugged and reached into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a silver cigarette case and lighter and gestured to the balcony. "Do you mind?"

House lent back in his chair to look out onto the sunny balcony, an ideal place for a quick smoke. He didn't smoke himself, but if it got Tawny to work with him, then he was amicable.

He turned back to her and grinned. "Only if you promise to share."

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It turned out, that the cigarettes weren't Tawny's only indulgence, she also enjoyed stolen alcohol. Both from House's secret stash and any other office in the hospital which happened to have a pick-able lock on it. They were now thoroughly drunk, ensconced on the roof and swapping life stories.

Tawny was originally from Scotland, but her father had been French hence the mixed accent. She was a surgeon, a fantastic one, trained in the army and had travelled the world over from an incredibly young age. House found himself comparing his life to her own. They had similar upbringings it seemed.

She also had a wicked and twisted sense of humour and was rapidly proving that she could drink nearly anyone under the table.

It was now quite late and House and Tawny had scurried back to the roof to hide from his team and anyone else that happened to be looking for House. Nearly all of the Doctors had gone home and the hospital was now quiet except from the roaring laughter that occasionally barked out into the night air.

Tawny took another drink from the bottle of pilfered Baileys and handed it over to House. They had recently raided the vending machines and now had a veritable feast laid out before them. Full of the munchies, Tawny was intent on devouring a whole bag of Oreos washed down with some Baileys and any diet cokes that were still left. The conversation had also moved from intently focused on Tawny to the hospital and its history.

"So, this Vogler man, sounds like a grade three bastard. How did you finally get rid of him?" Apparently, the more inebriated she became, the more prominent her French accent. English was obviously her second or third language but she only verbally stumbled once or twice before landing on the right word eventually.

House took his own draw from the bottle and then passed it back to Tawny.

"Grade three? You have gradings for bastards?"

"Oui, there are varying degrees of bastardicity." Tawny chuckled only a little as she spoke but she was obviously quite a few sheets to the wind. "You, Doctor House are an unashamed bastard but you are amusing and intelligent and you help people as a doctor while maintaining a healthy level of bastardness, so you are a grade one. Vogler is a grade three for he is selfish and controlling and has no redeeming qualities whatshoever." Tawny chuckled again as she hiccupped and took another drink before passing the bottle to House, who had also developed a taste for Baileys and/or diet cola. "So, how did you finally oust the man from this…l'hopital?"

House took the bottle sagely as only a Head Diagnostician can and answered. "Glad we cleared the bastard thing up. It's been a weight on my skinny shoulders. Anyhoo, it wasn't me that got rid of Vogler it was Lisa." House swallowed another draft of liqueur.

Tawny nodded in an exaggerated understanding fashion. "Lisa of course…who is she?"

House looked up and remembered he'd just met her and she didn't know Lisa Cuddy. "Lisa Cuddy is the Dean of medicine in this here parish of healing! She kicked his fat ass out of this hospital with style!" House gestured with the bottle while still managing to keep all of its contents inside it somehow.

"Really, she sounds impressive…un minut, is she the petite mamselle who runs quickly in the power suits?" Tawny's accent was getting thicker in direct ratio with how much she had drunk.

"Yeah! You have met her. This is great."

"Why?" Tawny had a delightful frown on her features as she looked at House.

House pondered carefully before answering. "Not a fucking clue." He took a swig and passed the bottle back to Tawny.

That was how Cuddy found them.

Ensconced in a corner of the hospital's roof the leavings of a five year old's feast scattered around them, singing '_Like a Fridge Over Troubled Waters'_ at the top of their lungs. Only slightly off key.

House noticed her first and threw his arms in the air in apparent delight.

"Cuddy! You sexy thang! What brings you to this delightful niche of the hospital."

House swayed as he lurched towards her, judging by his lack of cane, feeling no pain whatsoever. "Hmm-hmm," he bobbed his eyebrows suggestively. "You brought the twins too, now it's a party."

The other woman, that Cuddy didn't immediately recognise, chuckled from the corner and covered her mouth in an effort to silence herself when Cuddy glared in her direction.

Before she had quite realised what had happened, Cuddy had been dragged over to the fort of candy wrappers and plopped down in between the woman and House.

"Tawny, this is Lisa, she runs the hospital and puts up with me." House was very drunk, Cuddy had always pictured him as a melancholy drunk but apparently he just reverted to a ten year old.

No big change there then.

Tawny stuck out her hand and shook Cuddy's in a surprisingly firm grip. "Hello there, heard many things of you. Only good things though." She gestured to the hospital with a large bottle of Baileys that was nearly empty and bore an uncanny resemblance to the one a donor had gifted her with last week. "Love your work." Tawny continued as she took a drink and passed the bottle to Cuddy, who passed it straight to House.

"That's nice, but I think it's time that Dr House was going home. He has clinic hours in the morning." Cuddy rose to her feet as easily as her pencil skirt would allow and held her hand out to House. "C'mon, I'll drive you home."

House snickered. "Yus, in there with the boss!" He whispered loudly to Tawny.

Tawny's mouth dropped open in mock shock, and she slapped House on the shoulder. "She is a woman of virtue. She wouldd have to at least half as drunk as me to even think about it with an_ employee!_" Tawny ruined the insult by falling over against the wall as she tried to stand. She quickly sat down again and Cuddy had a sudden premonition that this was going to be the new doctor that House would want to hire. This woman couldn't have possibly been in the approve file…could she?

"Ah, so that's the secret to a woman's heart. Get her sloshed." House sniggered again as he lent heavily on Cuddy. He couldn't quite seem to get his cane to work.

Tawny nodded enthusiastically and then had to grip both sides of her head in order to stop her brain rattling around. "Works every time!" She declared in muffled tones.

Cuddy rolled her eyes and heaved House off of the roof. There was no point in shouting at them both now, they would just giggle like children, and let's face it, House would probably proceed to get her as drunk as they were.

Tomorrow, though, tomorrow was going to be a whole world of trouble for the pair of them. Cuddy thought grimly as she half carried her Head of Diagnostics out of the hospital and piled him into her car.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, here we are, this is the last chapter that I haven't extensively re-written, so a bitty of vintage fiction for y'all. The next chapter it will probably be more apparent exactly how much I've changed/improved/worsened in the writing arena. **

**Plus, smut! **

**Read and review, this is my only request. **

**Ciao!**

**Chapter 3: Working Under Him **

Cuddy struggled out of the car, with lanky drunk diagnostician in tow, and fumbled with the key to House's apartment. She finally got the door open and fell inside.

"Hey, not so rough, some of us have bum legs you know." House groused slurringly as he limped with her. He had given up long ago at any semblance of using his cane.

"Where's your bedroom?" Cuddy was strong for her size, but House felt like he's swallowed bricks for lunch. He never ate, how could he weigh this much?

"Hah, I knew it was only a matter of time, are you going to take advantage of me Dr Cuddy?" He sounded ridiculously hopeful.

Cuddy mentally added another item to her list titled; _Things To Do To House Just Before Moving To Rio._ It was getting longer by the minute. "If I say yes, will you tell me where the bedroom is before I drop you on the floor?" Cuddy was more than a little breathless by this point, and had it not been for the discomfort it would cause his leg, and later her, she would have dropped him on the nearest flat surface long ago.

Hell, even the front step was looking more than good enough the way things were going.

"Okay-dokey, down the hall and to the left, sexy." His hand slapped her ass. Actually slapped her ass. That list just grew another yard.

Cuddy ground her teeth and hauled the thorn in her side down the hall. She kicked open the bedroom door and saw the huge bed, unmade, dominating the room. "Friggin' cave man." Cuddy gritted as she staggered next to the mattress.

Cuddy's sharp mind calculated that if she tipped him just right, he should fall in a fairly central position on the bed, and not chafe his leg in any way. Cuddy managed to manoeuvre the rag doll House in a more upright, and tilt-ready, position. Having accounted for the tangle of bed sheets, Cuddy sorted herself and shoved House towards the bed. What she hadn't accounted for, however, was House's wiry arm snagging her around her waist in his drunken stupor and hauling her under him as he hit the mattress.

Cuddy only managed an undignified; "Eep!" as she plummeted towards the mattress and was smooshed under House with a rib cracking "Oomph!".

Cuddy, once she had finally regained her breath, looked down at House, who's head was cushioned blissfully on her chest. She blew a ringlet of dark hair out of her eyes and shook his shoulder, there was no way she was getting him off her without his cooperation.

Nothing.

"House." Shoulder shake.

Nada.

"House, you ingrate, wake up!" Shoulder shake and slap.

Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nil.

Cuddy's head thumped back against the mattress as she huffed in irritation. Nothing she said or did was going to wake up House until he was damn well good and ready.

The bastard was out cold.

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_The next morning._

Gregory House was having a marvellous dream. He had pain free sleep, for what his inner body clock calculated to be at least ten hours, and his pillow had apparently morphed into an extremely comfortable pair of breasts. He snuggled his face deeper into the 'breasts' and heaved a contented sigh.

Hold the phone…

Since when did his pillows have a heartbeat and smell of…(bury head deeper and inhale a deep sniff) vanilla musk? House abruptly opened his eyes and gathered that all was not what it seemed, when confronted with a rope of pearls and a half unbuttoned silk shirt. He arched a brow, with that underwear what was Victoria trying to keep secret? Almost dreading what he might see, House let his bedroom blue eyes travel up past the creamy cleavage and throat (sorry as he was to see them go) and let them rest on the face of one Dr Lisa Cuddy.

_Aaaw, shiiiit! _House closed his eyes and flinched.

Cuddy did nothing but stare at the ceiling with cold hard fury. Her jaw clenched. For a moment, House was panicked, he thought she wasn't breathing. "Lisa, you okay?" He freed one arm that had been tightly wrapped around her and shook her.

She continued to stare at the ceiling but the only proof of life was a deep, controlling, breath and the slowly gritted words;

"House, I am going to kill you."

House grimaced. He had fallen into bed with Lisa Cuddy, literally, and she wasn't smiling afterwards. He was loosing his touch.

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Cuddy brushed her hair with furious strokes, fresh from the shower, and glowered at her reflection in the mirror.

She was going to kill him.

Of that she was certain.

How exactly she was going to do it was still under debate.

She moved her attention to her ruined silk shirt and scowled. His repeated nuzzlings of her chest in his sleep had resulted in some rather severe stubble burns from her bra to her collar bone and the destruction of several key pearl buttons.

No jury in the world would convict.

Besides, there was no way she could go to that board meeting sporting her red lingerie for all to see. Her suit had been crushed to within an inch of its life. Only her black pencil skirt was marginally unscathed and, though it might be appreciated, she was _not_ going into that meeting wearing only a bra and a skirt. A meeting that she would miss if she went home to get fresh clothes. Cuddy stormed to the bathroom door, trying to remember if she had left a spare shirt at the hospital, and threw it open. She nearly shrieked an extremely un-Dean-like shriek when confronted with House on the other side of the door. At least he was fully dressed in a fresh set of jeans and tee-shirt. Her sea green eyes narrowed on him and even he had the sense not to make comment on the state of undress which _he _had caused. He held up a bundle of white cloth, eying her revealed cleavage with a leer.

"It shrank in the wash it should fit you." He held out the bundle for her to take with a smug grin on his lips.

The rat was enjoying this!

Cuddy snatched the bundle and shook out a white _Rolling Stones_ tee shirt, complete with tongue and lip logo. The sleeves had been ripped off and the neck ripped to a V, but it would have to do. Cuddy skirted House with terse instructions to shower quickly and be out at her car five minutes from _yesterday._ He watched her go appreciatively and then he slunk into the bathroom without a word.

Hangover, Cuddy concluded.

She went into his bedroom and removed her shirt to replace it with the _Rolling Stones_ tee shirt. Her eyes widened when she realised how deep the V was at her neck.

Okay, so the tee-shirt was fairly demure compared to some shirts that she had worn in her time, but…_damn! _The tee shirt was obviously old and made of cheap material, it stretched exaggeratedly across her chest (that mouth would never be the same again) and was practically see through. Her red bra was on prominent display. It had also shrunk so much that any of the board members would be able to tell if she had an innie or an outtie.

She was going to kill House.

_And_ the stubble burns, that the bastard had so charmingly given her, had been irritated by the hot water she had showered in. They were practically luminous now. Speaking of the bastard of the day, he had appeared at the door with damp hair and a lecherous smile on his face. He popped a vicodin.

Definitely hung over.

Cuddy scowled again and slung her crumpled jacket over one shoulder. She threw back her wildly curling hair (this was why God invented straighteners) and stalked past him.

They got into her car and, in an uncharacteristic fit of temper, Cuddy floored it all the way to the hospital.

She was _really _going to kill him.

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House had a rather charming view of Cuddy's back as he limped into the hospital after her. Her hips swung furiously with every irritated step and she power-housed past the lobby.

Brenda, the receptionist looked up with a smile that turned to shock as she greeted the oddly attired Dean of Medicine. "Good morning Dr _CUDDY!?"_

At Brenda's gaping outburst, several more nurses turned to see the new improved, and prominently displayed, Dr Cuddy sashay past them with a stony scowl. She swept into an elevator that appeared to have been waiting for her and disappeared into the grasp of the God of Lifts.

House grimaced his way into his own elevator and pressed the button for his floor. His doctor senses were telling him this was going to be a bad day. He smiled at the thought of the tee shirt he had given Cuddy. It really did show her in her best light, he thought.

He was feeling quite shitty so someone else might as well feel crappy too.

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As usual, the irascible Dr House turned out to be right (well, he was only good at one thing) and his day not so much crashed and burned, but exploded in the hangar.

Cuddy had been in a bad mood, this mood had gradually grown worse as the board meeting had come to pass and Cuddy found herself on the receiving end of several middle aged oglings.

Saying Cuddy's mood was bad now was like saying Hurricane Katrina was a spot of rain.

The hospital of PPTH had collectively buried its head in the sand and cowered in fear as she had galloped through the halls on those precarious but ever sexy heels.

House briefly shut his eyes and pictured Cuddy. He rubbed his leg absently, it was getting worse, but he focused on the imaginary Cuddy in a Playboy bunny suit, to distract himself. Wilson may be convinced that the worsening pain was in direct ratio to his angst over Stacy, but House didn't much care for the Southern lawyer anymore. True; she had been a big part of his life, but even when they had been together she had tried to change him to conform with her code of behaviour. He had chosen to be apart from her, it had been his decision and he was fine with that.

House brightened fractionally as the ducklings announced they had a case. He hobbled from the room and froze as he heard a now familiar cry of terror. House pressed himself against the wall, as a rail worker might do when hearing a train in a tunnel, and waited for the locomotive of trouble to bypass him.

Sure enough, the same prankster that had gotten House and Cameron, came tearing around the corner in her now familiar hobbling gait. She sidled up to a wall and pulled on a doctor's jacket that she had tucked under her arm. House had to smile at her forethought. His smile wavered when she pulled a Polaroid camera out of one of the lab coat's pockets, took aim, and waited.

A terrified young man, identifiable as a resident only because of his askew lab coat and nametag (and definitely not his professional manner) rounded the corridor, arms flailing above his head and screaming at the top of his lungs;

"Monster in the toilet! _MONSTER IN THE TOILET!!"_

He proceeded to sprint around the next corner, un-minding of the flash of a camera capturing his moment of terror, hollering mindless fear all the while.

House frowned at the young man's actions.

Sure, flailing your arms like that _looked_ good but it couldn't be a very aerodynamic way of perambulating.

Heaving a sigh, House continued on his way.

Cuddy was going to find a way to blame this on him no matter what.

Wilson joined him in the corridor and smiled. "Good morning."

"Depends on your myopic point of view, I guess." House growled back.

House rounded the corner and nearly knocked Cuddy flat on her ass as he ploughed into her. He snagged her around the waist to prevent broken bones and hurriedly put her away from him when he saw Wilson looking between the pair of them.

Wilson frowned as he looked at Cuddy's chest.

"They're breasts, Wilson." House stated with more venom than was strictly necessary.

Wilson shot him a look and shook his head. "That's not what I was staring at. That's your tee shirt, House." The younger doctor pointed just in case anyone in the hallway had any confusion as to which tee shirt was under discussion.

Cuddy scowled at the same time as her cheeks flamed.

"And are those _stubble burns?!"_ Wilson pointed again as House slapped a hand to his forehead.

Bad, bad, _BAD _day.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Cuddy stormed into the elevator and attacked the panel until her finger jabbed the button for her office. She lent back against the wall of the elevator, figuring she had finally escaped the madness.

But no.

A familiar cane slapped between the doors of the elevator and House slunk inside. Cuddy straightened abruptly and readied herself to face him.

He simply stood there looking at her for a moment before he spoke.

"In my defence, Wilson wouldn't shut up about the tee."

Cuddy snapped. She was wearing a tee shirt that was three sized too small for her, her hair looked, quite rightly, like she had just rolled out of someone's bed, she had stubble burns all over her chest that no amount of concealer was going to, well, conceal and on top of that she'd had next to no sleep.

"Your defence?" Cuddy said slowly, carefully, _dangerously_. House had the sense to back away from her. He had never heard this particular tone from his boss.

"YOUR DEFENCE!?" Cuddy spasmed in rage as she yelled at him. "Defence of what, House? Could it be the getting drunk with a stranger on the roof? Are you defending the fact that I not only had to drive you home, but put you to god-damned bed as well?! No, no, no, it couldn't be that because the story gets better! Oh yes, not only did you force me to drag your sorry ass to bed but you pulled me down with you."

House's gaze flickered over her shoulder. "Cuddy…"

She continued on as if she hadn't heard him. "So I spend all of last night stuck under your crippled self while you systematically manage to ruin one of my favourite shirts, crush my suit jacket…"

"Cuddy…" House tried again.

"And SAND BLAST MY TORSO WITH YOUR STUPID WEEK AGO SHADOW!" Cuddy was in full flow now and nothing short of the second coming was going to stop her.

"LISA THE DAMN DOORS ARE OPEN!" House finally yelled, gesturing behind her wildly.

Well, either the second coming or half of the hospital finding out she had spent the night at her Head Diagnostician's house and that same Diagnostician had been circulating rumours about them sleeping together for years.

Yeah, that'd stop her too.

Cuddy slowly turned on one heel, and saw the entire lobby of PPTH staring in slack jawed wonderment at what had just come out of the Dean of Medicine's mouth. If House had said anything, they would have dismissed it as purely House, but it had come from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

Utter silence except for Cuddy trying to regain her breath. A folder clattered to the floor and slid away from its holder. Cuddy smoothed down the fabric of her tee shirt and cleared her throat as she pushed the button for her office.

"Go about your business people." Cuddy murmured in a strange kind of daze as the doors slid shut.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Several hours later, the hospital was dark and Cuddy was still recovering from her outburst. The rumour mill had practically caught fire after the elevator incident and Cuddy, after careful thought and consideration had decide on hit and run for House.

Maybe she could reverse a couple of times in her Lexus, and really mash the treads in.

Cuddy yawned and stretched her neck. Damn, she was tired. She slipped her feet from her heels and wiggled her toes in the thick carpet, relaxing marginally. Her palace was quiet. No one was here but her. It wouldn't hurt to rest five minutes on the couch.

Cuddy rose to her feet and stretched her arms up behind her head and a languorous full body pretzel stretch. Cuddy heard the creak and pop of bones reasserting themselves, on top of the distinctive sound of cheap tee shirt fabric ripping.

Cuddy looked down to see the damn thing had ripped nearly to her navel.

"Well, fuck." Was all she could think to say.

Now thoroughly disgusted, Cuddy shuffled to the couch and swore again when her toe hit something. She collapsed onto the couch and rubbed her foot as she looked to see what she had stepped on. She lifted a long thin box from half under her desk. Her brow furrowed as she pulled apart the red ribbon and opened the box to reveal an incredibly ornate bottle nestled in tissue paper. Cuddy reached over and snapped on the lamp at the couch to throw some light on the subject. The light blinked on to show a bottle of red liquid sloshing in her hand. Cuddy's frown deepened as she noticed the various fruits and flowers floating in the bottle. The highly sanitary scientist in her wrinkled her nose, but the curious side perked up considerably.

The liquid had two parts. The heavier part was deep passionate pink/red and the top liquid was a silky golden colour. Cuddy had never seen anything like it. There was a label tied to the heart shaped bottle neck and Cuddy flipped it over to read a flowing script that proclaimed;

_**Irish Love Liquor**_

_Guaranteed to brighten any mood and open the eyes to love._

_Made with honey, whisky and strawberries, this whisky is one of _

_Ireland's best kept secrets. _

_Take a drink and open yourself to the possibilities._

Cuddy snorted. She didn't know about opening her eyes to love, she'd given up on that a long time ago, but she was definitely up for a drink. Cuddy searched for a glass and eventually found a tumbler in her desk drawer. With a small laugh of triumph, Cuddy wrestled the bottle open and looked down the neck to see a fine mesh stretched inside the opening. She heaved a relieved sigh. She didn't want to be pulling strawberry seeds and petals out of her shot.

It sort of ruined the fluidity of the drinking process.

She poured herself a double and giggled when the red and gold of the drink mixed. The stuff smelled wonderful. It had the sweet smell of Irish whisky, but the mellower smell of honey and the spice of cinnamon over that and something else that she couldn't identify. She inhaled deeply as the smell permeated her office.

She was feeling better already.

Cuddy took a sip, knowing better than to knock the stuff straight back and groaned as the explosion of taste took place on her tongue.

Why the hell were the Irish keeping this a secret? It tasted great!

Cuddy settled back on the couch after turning on the stereo. Not many people knew she had one secreted under her coffee table, and she intended to keep it that way. She relaxed to the soothing sounds of Barry White and swirled her drink as she let her mind drift.

House found her like that. Curled up on her couch, drink in one hand, staring off into space. He pushed open the door to her office lightly and froze when he saw that the tee shirt had finally given up the ghost and split asunder.

He didn't know how long he was standing there but Cuddy's voice snapped him out of it like a bucket of cold water.

"Its nothing you haven't seen before."

House inhaled sharply in surprise, then stopped, and then sniffed again. What was that delicious smell? House plopped down on the couch next to her and sniffed closer to her. "Is that you?"

Cuddy took another sip of her drink and tilted her chin at her foot, which pointed to the bottle on the table.

"What is it?"

Cuddy laughed a throaty chuckle and swirled her drink. "Irish Love Liquor."

House arched a brow, as much at the name of the drink as to the playful attitude Cuddy was exhibiting. "Really? Willing to share?" House was always up for a drink.

Cuddy shook her head too vigorously, a playful grin on her lips. "Nope, s'all mine. Mwaha!"

House bobbed his eyebrows. He was feeling rather playful himself. That drink really did smell good. "About the bed incident…" Cuddy turned to look at him in amazement, he sounded almost apologetic. "I was disappointed you had to leave so soon." His voice took on a growling teasing tone and he mock purred for her.

See, he could be perfectly charming, but then he opened that mouth.

Cuddy laughed that same throaty sound again that did marvellous things to House's insides and replied in a sweet tone. "Not nearly as disappointed as I was. I'm used to being less…tense, when I leave a man's bed." She wiggled her eyebrows at him in a mocking mimicry of his own gesture.

House froze, dumbfounded as Cuddy threw back her head and laughed throatily at his expression. Her drink sloshed onto her hand and House was transfixed as her tongue swept out to lave the droplets from her skin. She eyed him as she swirled her tongue around one finger and sucked at it. A smile spread across her face as she looked at him through half lidded eyes, her thumb twirled the ring she had on her wet finger.

"I think I'll have some of that drink actually." House moved to take the bottle and Cuddy shot out a hand to stop him. She gave a yelp as her ring slid from her wet finger. It bounced once on the table and fell underneath it. Cuddy cursed under her breath and moved to get it before House forestalled her.

"If I return the lady's ring will it earn me a drink?" He was already kneeling on the floor, not an easy feat with a bum leg.

Cuddy grudgingly agreed and waited for the return of her jewellery. House stretched a long limb under the desk to find the ring as Cuddy rose to find another glass. She arrived back at the table and plonked the glass down on it.

House reappeared from his brief adventure, ring in his grip. He held it out to her, raised on one knee and took her left hand to help him to his feet. He pushed the ring onto her finger with exaggerated care but didn't let go of her hand.

Cuddy pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face as she looked up at him. He smiled at her hair and hooked a finger around another wild tress.

"This is a good look for you, wild and mussed. It's kinda sexy." He breathed out a sigh and Cuddy felt the warmth on her face, she hadn't realised how close he was until that moment. She licked her lips, drawing his attention to them again.

She laughed uneasily in belated reply to his comment. "Well, I think I'll leave sexy for the weekends, professional does it for me at work."

House said nothing but continues to look at her mouth. He was really, really close. The sweet smell of the whisky enveloped them like a cloud and Cuddy felt light headed. She swayed towards him without meaning to and her chest brushed his, he didn't seem to mind the contact. They were only inches apart now and Cuddy blinked rapidly, coming back to herself. She looked down where his hand still gripped hers and carefully removed it. "Do you want that drink or not?"

House looked down at her for a moment, his face was in shadow and Cuddy couldn't properly read him as he silently regarded her. "No, I think I'll leave it until the weekend."

He smiled at her one last time and left the office.

Cuddy smoothed her tee shirt and pulled the ripped halves together as best she could. She shook her head, stashed the whisky and left the office. Her entire body throbbed but she ignored it as she called a cab while riding the elevator.

She didn't see the small body crouched behind the potted plant outside her office, camera in hand and sly smile on their face.


	4. Chapter 4

**SMUT, coz dream sex is fun if nothing else and I get to be totally illogical (more than usual at least) as I type away. **

**You don't like it then don't read and review, coz it only serves to piss me off and I'm supposed to be charitable for the next few days as Red Nose day is coming up and y'know, guilot money out the rich and squander on the poor, that sort of thing. **

**Helps if ye've got a big grin on your face.**

**Uummm…jam, that's all I can think of for the moment. **

**Read and review. **

**Chapter 4: Dreaming Hard**

_His mouth was hard on hers. Harder than she had expected. His lips devoured hers and his tongue lunged into her mouth in a daring possession that she couldn't remember anyone even attempting with her. The kiss was a challenge to her, demanding her to push him away, to deny the attraction that flared between them like a tongue of flame at the least provocation. _

_Her hands rose and gripped his shoulders as his arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her hard against the solid wall of his chest. She made a muffled whimpering sound as pleasure tingled along her skin at the contact that crushed her sensitive breasts against him. She thought of pushing him away and her fingers flexed on his hard frame, but instead she found herself pulling him closer instead of putting distance between them._

_She loved this, the hard feel of a man against her smaller softer body. She revelled in the purely female sensation as he pushed her back with his slightly uneven gait. Something hard hit the back of her legs and she reached back with one hand to find smooth polished wood under her fingers. The realisation that he was pushing her back onto her desk didn't seem to faze her as it normally would. He growled a loud rumble in her ear as his arm swept out and effectively cleared her desk in one short movement. _

_She opened her eyes to see his clothes melt away to reveal long smooth lines and tanned skin that had her biting her lip to stop the groan of anticipation moaning out into the room. She panted softly as he smirked down at her. Her hands trembled slightly as she splayed them against his chest feeling hot skin. He felt almost inhumanly warm against her and she didn't mind in the slightest. His tongue lapped at her shoulder and her fingers closed on the fine silver chain that hung around his neck a single teardrop shaped pendant of aquamarine hung from it. She didn't recall him wearing any kind of jewellery before but it was cool in her hand as he swept a glowing golden trail over her skin with his tongue. _

_Suddenly, her clothes were gone too and he laid her down against the table, the hard wood cold against her naked back and the hot firmness of his skin against her front had her shivering in anticipation. Her legs slid up and around his hips, her pelvis a cradle for him as his hot hard cock slid against her wet folds._

_She moaned and bit at his shoulder, her nails scraped down his back in a roughness that she had never allowed herself with a real man. She couldn't lose control, especially not with the real House, but this was okay. It was alright to scream for this House._

_His hands gripped her hips. Long fingered dexterous hands that held her gently but firmly. Their strength evident even as he angled her hips to his with whisper soft caresses of his fingers. "You ready for me?" _

_His voice was harsh in her ear. Rough with him trying to hold back the heave of air in his lungs and the building storm of lust in his chest. his heart hammered under her fingers as she trailed them down over his chest and stomach to wrap around the hard evidence of his readiness for her. Giddy arousal swirled through her head like too much wine and she chuckled as her lips caressed his neck, her tongue sliding over the tendons and leading her up to his ear, which she bit softly. "Very ready. Take me now." She ordered and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her legs tightened over his as he bent her back across the desk, it softened under her back and it was suddenly her bed. She didn't question the dream's logic, so long as she was satisfied._

_His tongue was molten as it stroked over her skin, steam clouded the air between them and she arched back on a harsh cry. Her hair splaying out like ink in water over the pillows as she gasped. His teeth seemed cold as they scraped icy trails over her skin, he gripped her arms with a manacle like strength to keep her still. The sheets twisted around her limbs and held her down. She pushed all of her strength against them and she was just bound tighter, they swirled over her body and forced him back and away from her with a sharp cry of denial from his throat at the separation. _

_All at once she was a lone in the bed. _

Cuddy awoke with a start and heaved herself up into a sitting position. She wriggled until she was free of the tangle of bed sheets tight around her sweat slicked body. She shoved a dark fall of hair out of her eyes with a short angry movement. It took her a moment to come back to herself and she couldn't quite ignore the pang of disappointment she felt upon realising that she was in her own bed by herself. It wasn't often that it bothered her, her solitary sleeping arrangements, but today it irked her somewhat.

Her chest rose and fell sharply beneath her nightshirt and she swallowed hard past the dry feeling in her mouth. Since when did she have graphic erotic dreams about Gregory damn House? Since when did she have erotic dreams period?

Of course there was that time after seeing Brad Pitt in Troy…but still!

She had never even thought about House naked…though her imagination had certainly painted an intriguing picture there was certainly no reason to continue thinking about it.

Heat pulsed under her skin and hammered through her veins, her body begged to differ. It was very much intrigued about what exactly House looked like naked and could he really do that twirling sucking thing with his tongue. Cuddy scowled, she was _not_ thinking about it!

She ached with unfulfilled desire as she grimaced her way out of bed and padded through to her bathroom. She looked herself in the mirror, taking in the flush high on her cheeks, the slightly glassy look of her eyes and the way that her body tightened in readiness every time her thoughts swung back to _him._

No! She shook her head sharply in denial. She wasn't thinking about the real House, she was thinking about some figment of her overheated imagination. The way she wanted him to be. Wait, she didn't want him to be any particular way. That would imply some kind of personal feeling on her part. It was just random. She assured herself. Nothing to get tied in a knot about. She splashed water up onto her face and shimmied out of her nightgown. She tied her hair back haphazardly and shoved it into a ponytail. She winced at the tug in her muscles as she pulled on her sweats and went back through to her bedroom to rummage for her i-pod.

She was just…stressed. That was it, she was stressed and she hadn't been out on her daily run yesterday because of House and that excess energy plus the usual exasperations that House caused resulted in one very hot but completely irrelevant dream. Cuddy smirked to herself as she secured the armband onto her bicep, ignoring the echoing sensation of his fingers clasping her there. It was really perfectly rational; excess energy and overwork.

Nothing to do with Gregory House.

She slammed the door behind her and ignored the simmering of lust singing through her body like vibrations through a struck bell. Stretching quickly she began her run as quickly as possible wanting to be rid of these troubling dreams.

Nothing to do with Greg House.

Nope. Nothing at all.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Cuddy stormed through the red leaved doors of Princeton-Plainsboro and ignored anyone and everyone, her attention focused solely on trying to find that damn paper that had been there a moment earlier but had apparently taken it upon itself to jaunt off to parts unknown. Irritation lashed her and was evident with every click of her heel and sway of her hips as she stalked towards her office. Woe betide anyone that messed with her today, she would probably eat them alive.

Her run, twice as long as usual, had done nothing to abate her arousal and, instead, seemed to have made it worse. It was a sharp ache low in her belly, a fire in her head and a haze over everything she looked at. Her hands shook as she rummaged angrily though her bag. It was colouring everything she was doing and she was none too pleased at the disruption.

"Uum, Dr Cuddy?"

"What?!" Cuddy rounded on the unfortunate someone with a snarl and then abruptly got a hold of herself. She cleared her throat and straightened, smoothing a hand down the front of her jacket and tossing the flyaway curl out of her face, she focused on the tall blonde resident in front of her. She was athletically built with a nervous way about her and thick horn rimmed glasses perched on her Nordic profile. "Can I help you?" Cuddy tried again with a marginally more human tone. She even attempted a smile, managing to bare her teeth, but she dropped it quickly when the resident took a hesitant step away from her.

"I-I was headed to ra-radiology and I seem to have gotten turned around somewhere." The resident practically cowered before Cuddy and Cuddy couldn't find it within herself to care.

Cuddy thrust her arm out and pointed down the corridor. "That way." She said shortly and moved to leave.

"Sorry, it's just that yours was the only name I knew." The resident managed not to stammer this time and Cuddy immediately felt like an absolute bitch.

"It's just down the hall and the first door on the left, okay? Don't be afraid to ask anyone for help, they're not going to bite you." Cuddy congratulated herself on the watery smile that she managed to glean from the resident and then added as an afterthought. "Except for Dr House, tall, thin and walks with a cane, he will always lie to you."

Cuddy turned to leave again but she was stopped short when the resident grabbed her hand in a surprising grip. She beamed at Cuddy as she squeezed her hand. "Thankyousomuch!" She gibbered before hurrying down the hallway. Cuddy frowned after her, but shook her head and continued on her way. She made a mental note to check where they were recruiting residents from these days but pushed any further thought from her mind.

She didn't register the cast to the hip that the resident happened to be wearing.

In fact, Cuddy was so focused on getting to her office and finding that bleeding paper that she didn't notice the whispers and stares from everyone in the employ of the hospital (and a few patients) that she left in her wake. They all gaped quietly after her and then immediately resumed their discussions of the latest and hottest gossip as soon as they were sure that she wasn't within earshot. The murmur of voices and the stench of fresh rumour meat to chew over was completely lost on the Dean as she didn't once lift her head or instigate a greeting on her way to her office. She finally lost all patience with her briefcase as she walked into her assistant's workspace. She stalked to her latest PA's desk and slammed the leather bag down on top of it.

Agnes, the aged woman who the agency had seen fit to send this time, jumped at the clatter of Italian leather thumping down on top of her keyboard and narrowly missing her fingers. She looked up from under her stylishly cut white hair at the young powerhouse that was her boss and arched a single silver brow. "Something amiss, Dr Cuddy?"

Agnes had a fair idea what exactly was amiss, but decided to test the waters by pretending ignorance.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. The minutes for yesterday's board meeting seem to have just up and disappeared and I can't find them anywhere. I was sure that I…" Cuddy trailed off as Agnes lifted a sheaf of stapled together pages in a folder marked 'Board Meeting Minutes' and handed it wordlessly across the desk to Cuddy.

"Well, as long as they're here." Cuddy said, trying to sound a little more mollified than she actually was. She had the sudden and completely irrational urge to beat someone over the head with this folder and she shoved it down and out of the way before she gave into the urge to act upon it. She stilled as her eyes lit on something on the corner of Agnes' desk. She frowned and whipped it out to peruse it. Her mouth fell open as her eyes widened. She took in the leaflet at a glance and then stared at it for a few more moments, trying to fully comprehend what she was looking at.

It was a homemade paper depicting a love-heart shaped picture of herself and House, obviously taken last night in her office after hours. It showed House kneeling in front of her, grasping her left hand in his and toting a ring in his free hand. She was smirking down at him in a way that could have been taken as affectionate and there was definitely a grin on his lips. Thankfully, the dim lighting of her office at the time had managed to conceal the disintegration of her shirt. Glitter sparkled over the paper and scrawled out bright shining letters; 'CONGRATULATIONS! Drs House and Cuddy to marry!'

Cuddy swallowed past the sudden rage that seemed to be choking her. Her knuckles whitened on the paper as her already short fuse ignited in a sparking inferno of temper. Her hand shook and Agnes wheeled her chair a few inches further away from Cuddy, she could practically smell the ozone in the air as Cuddy's mood barometer flipped from 'barely pleasant' to 'stormy weather'.

"That. Rat. BASTARD!" Cuddy gritted out from between clenched teeth. She spun on one ludicrously expensive heel and prowled straight out of her office, headed for diagnostics and House. Or, more accurately, his blood.

Agnes watched the younger livid woman and decided not to inform her boss that the leaflets had been papered over the car park and on every hospital bulletin board, as well as every head of department.

Cuddy snarled something at the inhabitants of an elevator and they all hurriedly vacated the box to make room for her.

Agnes decided after lunch might be alright.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

In contrast to Cuddy, House's morning had gone rather pleasantly, he thought. He had successfully arrived later than usual slipping under the boss's radar and avoiding clinic nicely. He had, of course, had to put up with the smirks and whispers that had followed in his wake. A few well placed glares had taken care of the majority of it. Seriously though, people needed to get over the cellophane incident.

He thought he was the only one that had nothing better to do, but apparently everyone was taking the day off to point and laugh.

He looked up as Tawny chose that moment to swing languidly in through the doors. She smirked at him and took a seat opposite him. She tilted her head and her grin widened slightly. "Well, well, Dr House, who would have thought you had it in you?"

House blinked, momentarily at a loss. "Lot's of people, and all of them women." He said automatically and narrowed his eyes at her, not quite sure was going on. "Okay, I give, who exactly is thinking what?"

Tawny tilted her head and her eyes dropped to his hand a moment behind the yellow lenses of her glasses. She cleared her throat and reached into her pocket, retrieving a folded piece of bright pink paper. "See for yourself." Her accent was a liquid instruction as she flipped tiger coloured hair out of her eyes and glanced out the window.

House glared down at the paper but was disrupted from opening it as the door crashed open and an extremely irate Cuddy stormed into his office. "This is too far, House! Even for you!" She snapped and thrust a sheet of paper that was roughly the same shade as the one he was already holding, under his nose. He leant back and took it from her slightly trembling hand and opened it with a curious tilt to his brow. Curious became outright shock when he took in the contents of the leaflet. He looked up at Cuddy in horror as she planted her hands on her hips and glared down at him.

"What the fuck is this?" He demanded of her and stood to tower over her. She didn't back down.

"It would seem to be a marriage proposal." Tawny noted calmly and Cuddy whirled, noticing the other woman for the first time.

"Wait, the drunk's back for visits?" Cuddy demanded and turned back to House, fairly content to tear him a new one, no matter how irrational or how not his fault the reasoning happened to be.

"Meet my new surgeon; Dr Tawny McQueen." House supplied, his tone and gesture towards Tawny dripping sarcasm. "Saves me having to wheedle your guys into action if I've already got one on payroll." He grinned tightly down at her and then held up the paper again. "I say again; what the fuck?"

"Possibly the work of the…practical joker?" Tawny interjected smoothly, ignoring Cuddy's barb and focusing instead on finding the correct words in English. She looked up at Cuddy with a wry twist to her full lips. "Don't take my alcohol addled word for it though."

Cuddy practically growled. "Well, whoever thought it up is delusional, I would never marry you." She emphasised her point by thumping House in the chest with her finger, ignoring how firm his body felt under that brief touch. She really didn't need any more fuel for her already overactive imagination where he was concerned.

"Hey," House protested, "I'll have you know I'm quite the catch."

"Compared too…?" Cuddy let the question trail off as if she could think of nothing she would prefer House over. She attempted to ignore the way he smelled so good, the way her temperature skyrocketed and the way she wanted to suddenly kiss him senseless. She shifted from foot to foot in an uncharacteristic show of nerves and rubbed the back of her neck once before forcing herself to drop her arm. She cleared her throat. Perhaps she was having an allergic reaction.

Tawny smirked and sat back to watch the battle of wits. She had a feeling it might be quite amusing to work under these two. House just sat there a moment, taking Cuddy in. sure, she had always given as good as she'd got, but there was something off about her today. It didn't take a genius to see that she was agitated, more than the situation really warranted, her colour was hectic, there was a sheen of sweat on her skin and a glassy look to her eyes. He wondered idly if she was perhaps coming down with something. It wouldn't be the first time she had worked through something that would have had someone else flat on their back hours ago.

"If this proposal is a surprise to you, Dr Cuddy, why are you wearing an engagement ring?" Tawny asked suddenly, one long finger flickering to Cuddy's left hand.

Cuddy followed the look a hot denial already on her lips. "I am not wearing an…that's not mine." She asserted and splayed her fingers to frown down at the ring. She gripped it in a determined way and yanked. Hard. A flicker of panic passed over her features as the ring refused to move. "Goddamnit, it's stuck!" She grimaced as she twisted more fiercely and only succeeded in pulling painfully at her finger.

"How convenient, let me see." House reached out and snagged her hand between his and examined the finger in question. There was a thin smear of glue on her finger under the white gold of the ring's edging. It was definitely expensive, there was a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds, the silversmith had worked the metal in such a way so that the jewels and gold twined to look like a flowering plant. The sapphire had been shaped to look like a tiny perfect blue rose and the surrounding diamonds were un-opened buds.

"Well, it's very pretty, but it's definitely stuck to you. How dim do you have to be to get a ring glued to your finger, why did you have it on anyway?"

Cuddy glared at him as she snatched away her hand and put a hasty distance between them. "I told you, it's not mine. I don't know how it got there."

"So you expect him to believe that someone walked up to you and glued a rock of that value to your finger without your knowledge?" Tawny smirked and her disbelief was evident as she moved so as to get a better look at the ring from her vantage point on the other side of the table.

Cuddy glared at the surgeon, she was _this_ close to tossing the drunken wench out on her ass. As mad as she was at that moment, she felt she would be able to do it herself. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to be shackled to him in any way. I only work with the wretch and he's giving me an ulcer."

House was prevented from defending himself against that particular insult as the phone rang insistently on his desk. He scowled at the unwelcome interruption and snatched up the handset. "What?" He demanded roughly and then thrust the phone towards Cuddy. "For you."

Cuddy was forced to step closer to him to take the handset. She ignored the way she wanted two wriggle like a happy puppy at being this close to his body. She shifted uncomfortably as she listened to Agnes on the other end of the line. She scowled up at House when he refused to move and give her more space. She even considered shoving him away, but that would involve tactile contact between them.

"_Dr Cuddy, I know you're not exactly in the mood for this right now, but Mr Burndyke is here and he's demanding to speak to you. He's saying something about the board review and the minutes from the meetings." _Agnes half whispered down the line giving Cuddy the impression that the repulsive Mr Burndyke was standing not too far off.

Just the thought of the small, round, hair plugged monstrosity gave her a shudder and Cuddy's gaze fixed on House's chest as she thought about what to do. Quickly becoming entranced with the motion of House's breathing, Cuddy's eyes glazed as she suddenly realised she had no idea what Agnes was saying and she really wanted to stroke House.

Stroke House?!

Cuddy jerked at the thought and the phone nearly flew from her grasp. She recovered quickly and straightened, focusing her attention more firmly on the conversation in her ear instead of wondering exactly how much of House was filling out those jeans…surely that wasn't a sock? Cuddy cleared her throat suddenly and refused to blush more than she already was. "I'll be right there, Agnes. Just…just stall him until I get there." Cuddy slammed the phone back into its cradle and made an effort to breathe through her mouth so she could better ignore the delicious scent that had become Gregory House.

She pointed an accusing finger in his face. "I'll deal with_ you_ later." She turned and sashayed from the office.

Tawny twisted to watch the smaller woman go and arched a brow. They certainly did things differently over here. She turned back to House and arched a brow without conscious thought.

House, who had been brooding over Cuddy's strange behaviour, lanced Tawny with a glare. "What?"

"Is she always like that?"

"Like what?" House was unsure if Tawny meant, was the dean always pissed at him or was she always so easily agitated.

"Like she wants to shove you down on the desk and have her wicked way with you, no matter that there's someone else in the room?" Tawny asked with her usual lack of aplomb.

"She's not sick then?" House almost mused to himself as he rubbed at his jaw, still staring at the doors that Cuddy had disappeared through a few moments ago.

"Well, my second guess was Malaria, but they have shots for everything these days." Tawny shrugged casually.

"Hmm, okay, Diagnostics 101; find out if the patient is actually sick." House lurched to his feet and hobbled to the door. He looked back at Tawny. "You coming?"

Tawny rose smoothly and stalked after House with her usual predatory gait. "Depends on where we are going."

"We're going investigating." House settled on the suitable non-answer as he limped along the corridor and headed for the elevators.

"Yes, but what does that involve?"

"Industrious scrutiny of her natural habitat." House hedged.

"You want to break into her office, don't you?" Tawny put it to him as she crossed her arms over her chest.

House flashed her a grin, pleased that she had picked up so quickly. "Good idea, let's do that. If anyone asks it was your idea." He smirked and jabbed the button for the ground floor again with his cane.

Tawny just smirked and shook her head.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: _"There isn't a fine line between love and hate. There's the great wall of China with armed guards posted every twenty feet." _**

**_-_House**

**I think we should see him eat his words, shouldn't we? **

**SCENES OF AN EXTREME AND SMUTTY NATURE BE HERE! You don't like it? Bugger off! Tiz that simple. **

**Okay, I'm rewriting this one because I've run out of inspiration for the other two. TEMPORARILY. I am NOT abandoning them. I will just be taking my own sweet time to finish them. **

**Quite a long chapter to sink yer teeth into and I don't think I need to remind you that this is intended for and as such is extremely…porn-ish in places. There will be plot (hah!) occasionally but this is a tad more explicit than ye might be used to and I apologise if I offend anyone dim enough to have ignored my warnings, but there you are. As long as you don't come running to me whinging I don't much care.**

**Anyway, I put this at a PSW (Prinnie Squee Warning) of about…8 ½ especially since it's the long awaited elevator scene. **

**Read and review! **

**Chapter 5: Crossing That Fine Line**

Tawny tilted her head as she watched House sidle along the wall towards Cuddy's office. She arched a single red brow at him and folded her arms across her chest as she stood in the middle in the hallway.

"You look like an idiot. You realise that don't you?" She asked him and he turned to her and glared.

"You could at least _try_ to blend in." He scolded her and she rolled her eyes and leant against the wall next to him.

"Better?"

House raked her with an annoyed glance. "Marginally."

Tawny murmured something in French that sounded quite derogatory and House ignored it in favour of peering through the glass doors to Cuddy's office. He could see her standing behind the desk, watching the small fat man pace back and forth in front of her like he was a small and particularly petulant child. He swallowed a smirk as Burndyke said something particularly offensive to Cuddy and she took on her power pose of hands on hips and that kind of neutral expression that meant she was really pissed.

"So, are we just going to loiter with intent while Cuddy entertains this…man?" Tawny's voice was a low purr in his ear and House was surprised at how close she was standing to him and his eyes raked over her. "Forget it, my husband would eat you alive." She said without looking at him and he smirked.

"Habit." He was silent a beat further. "I didn't know you were married."

"Not many people think I am. Which is odd considering I never take this off." She raised her left hand and fingered the ring on her third finger. A demure white and yellow gold Celtic knot of metal.

"Huh." House said. He had missed it too.

"Are we really just going to stand here?" Tawny asked after a few more moments of office gazing.

"Do you have a better idea?" House looked over at her as she stalked back and forth across the mouth of the corridor. She was beginning to make the nurses nervous.

Tawny grinned suddenly. "As a matter of fact…" She reached inside her shirt and removed her slim line mobile phone and flipped it open. She punched out a few numbers and then pressed it to her ear. "Hello, Agnes is it?"

House blinked in surprise at the lazy American drawl that erupted from between Tawny's lips as she spoke with a slightly southern twang into her phone.

"Yeah, you know that practical joker character? Uh-huh, they glued paper clips to the inside of all the MRIs…uh-huh. Well I don't want to be the one to tell her either, this is why you're her assistant." Tawny continued to talk Agnes into braving Cuddy's temper for a few more moments and then hung up the phone with a satisfied smirk on her full mouth. She turned to House with a vaguely superior smile. "One distraction coming right up." She nodded towards the office and House turned in time to see Agnes jump out of the way as Cuddy stormed out past her and prowled straight into the elevators. She didn't look any better than she had half an hour ago. She definitely seemed a little more annoyed now though. Burndyke trotted after her and House saw cuddy roll her eyes and rub at her temple as the small man joined her in the elevator.

He was obviously doing nothing to improve her mood.

House smirked as he limped across the lobby and sidled into the assistant's space. Agnes looked up with a glower at House and opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could go. She was cut off at the sight of Tawny trailing after the lanky diagnostician like a pet lioness.

"Bonjour!" Tawny said in an incredibly cheerful manner. "I am Dr McQueen, I am new here, Dr House is going to introduce me to Dr Cuddy. Okay if we wait inside her office, yes?" Tawny deliberately leant on her accent and seemed a little less sure of herself than usual. That appeared to do the trick. Agnes nodded slowly and then rounded on House.

"You behave yourself." She warned him and then gathered the files that she needed to take with her to the copier.

House looked over at Tawny. "Nifty." Was all he said as he pushed his way into the office that he so often invaded by himself. Tawny stopped in the middle of the room and looked about herself as House marched right behind the desk and planted himself in Cuddy's seat. He rummaged through her desk drawers and generally made a mess as he looked for clues. It took him a few moments to realise that Tawny wasn't doing anything.

"You gonna help me look or what?"

She blinked and pointed to herself. "I've never done this before, what am I supposed to be looking for?"

House sighed and waved her towards the door. "Fine, just keep a look out and tell me when Cuddy comes back. It'll probably be better if she doesn't find us raking through her desk drawers." He muttered almost to himself as he scraped about the neat freak contents of her desk. How could the woman's mess even be neat?

Tawny trailed to the door and leant against it as she perused the busy lobby outside.

House made a small sound of triumph as he held a bottle aloft. "She was drinking this last night, it's the only thing in here that's new and her symptoms didn't start until this morning."

"So?"

"Soooo, this might be what's causing her symptoms." House reasoned and opened the bottle of whisky, sniffing cautiously. "Definitly smells good." He swigged a small measure. "Taste's alright."

Tawny whipped around to look at him. "You _drank _it?!" She glared at him as if he were feeling particularly dim today. "Didn't you just say that this could be making Cuddy act strangely?"

"Well, I'm sure a teensy bit won't hurt me. She was knocking it back quite proficiently last night." He defended himself as he looked around for something to take a sample away in.

Tawny sighed heavily by the door at his disarray. "I will fetch something." She spoke tiredly as if looking after a child and then exited the room.

House sniffed the bottle's contents again. Whisky of somekind and there was an incredibly more-ish scent to it that sort of made him want to…he caught sight of Cuddy at the last moment, just before she stormed into the office, throwing open the doors with a clatter.

House frowned at her, amused. "Isn't that usually what I do?" he jerked the bottle under the desk and sent some of the whisky sloshing over his hand and sleeve. He swore under his breath, stoppered the damn thing and then shoved it as discreetly as he could back into the drawer. He clicked it shut with his cane and then stood to meet Cuddy.

Cuddy growled. "Aren't you supposed to be in clinic?"

"Clin…ick? What is this clin-ick of which you speak?" He rolled the words about his mouth as he sidled closer towards her. His mind racing for a semi-plausible excuse. He smirked, he had never seen someone squirm while remaining perfectly still before but, somehow, Cuddy managed it. She barely even noticed as Burndyke trailed into the room after her puffing and panting after having to run up three flights of stairs after the dean. She folded her arms over her chest (doing wonderful things to the funbags in the process) and glared at him.

House snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes, _clinic!_" He tilted his head at her and pouted. "I need a consult, will the nice lady doctor help lil' old me?" He sidled close enough that he might as well have had his head on her shoulder. She turned her head and their gazes locked for a moment. Something electrifying passed between them and all traces of humour fled his eyes as her breath caught. She swallowed hard and then managed to regain some semblance of a professional manner.

"House, I don't have time to be running after you at your every whim. I'm needed elsewhere." She tugged at her jacket and straightened it in a nervous movement before spinning on one spectacular heel and stalking out of her office to go to the elevators. She almost made it before House limped in after her with a playful grin. She looked past him, to see Burndyke huffing after them and Cuddy swallowed a sigh as she resigned herself to being trapped between the two most annoying men on the planet.

Or, she would have been, had an expensively shod foot not shot out and hooked neatly in Burndyke's ankle, sending him sprawling over the slick floors of the lobby. Surprisingly, it was Tawny McQueen that helped the man to his feet and proceeded to thank him effusively and at length for donating the money to the hospital that had paid for her new job. Cuddy actually felt gratified towards the other woman, at least, she did until the doors hissed shut and enclosed her in a metal box alone with House.

Oh joy.

"So, what did you need the consult on?" She asked him in a desperate attempt to distract herself from the insane need to ogle him.

"Consult?" He repeated, dragging his gaze from her chest to her face. He forced his mind to think of their conversation instead of how much he suddenly wanted to shove her up against the wall of the elevator and have his wicked way with her until she begged for more. He stank of that whisky, it seemed to be hazing everything up. "Um, no consult I just wanted you away from Peppy Le Puke back there." He jerked his shoulder as if to indicate Burndyke.

"Why?" She asked suddenly and House stared at her.

Why indeed. He was saved from answering, however, by the way the elevator shuddered suddenly to a halt. House looked about himself and sighed. He looked down at Cuddy, who suddenly had a panicked trapped look about her as she pressed her back against the metal wall and clenched her jaw. She moved suddenly and slammed the heel of her hand against the emergency alert button in the elevator. She made a sound of surprised shock as the button crumbled right under her palm and flaked away. She stared at the mess of wax in her hand and then glared around at House as if it were his fault.

The prankster had struck again.

"This is what you get for spending all that money on lawyers." He told her to distract her. She glowered at him.

"Maybe I wouldn't need all that money for lawyers if some jackass didn't keep acting like an idiot." She snapped and House rocked back on his heels with a smirk.

"You shouldn't talk about Wilson that way." He told her as he stepped closer to her. He saw her fingers whiten where they pressed against the wall. She was as far away from him as she could get and he still came closer.

Cuddy stared up at him and willed herself not to lose control. The haze of hormones was back again and she was sooooo tired of fighting it. _Colleague,_ she thought desperately as his chest brushed within inches of hers. _Even worse, it's House!_ She warned herself harshly but the thought was completely swamped by the raging sea of hormones that seemed in no danger of ebbing for this lifetime.

"You'd better sit down." She found herself telling him. "We could be here a while."

He smirked down at her and she had the awful feeling that he was seeing right through her whisper thin control. This was going to be bad. She just knew it.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tawny examined the small vial of liquid in her palm as she stalked along the corridor and wondered what to do with it. She had tried to find House again but had last seen him disappearing into the elevator with Cuddy and no one had seen them since. She tossed the whisky filled vial and caught it easily. She tossed it again, bounced it off the inside of her elbow and then caught it again easily. She smirked and began to toy with it as a cat would a mouse. She had used to do this for Lorcain, he had loved it, watching her 'magic' tricks with wide green eyes. Her smile slipped slightly as she wondered what he was up to at this moment in time.

"Dr McQueen!" Tawny snatched the vial out of the air again and then whirled at the sound of the voice.

"Oui?" She asked congenially of Dr Foreman, the only one of the 'Ducklings' that she didn't mind over much.

"Have you seen House? We're supposed to be doing a differential." Foreman didn't look to happy at having been sent out to search for House. Tawny tapped the slim bottle in her hand against her palm and then rolled it over her knuckles and caught it before it could fall by twisting her hand in a cobra fast movement. Foreman raised his eyebrows at the casual display of reflex as she thought about how to answer him.

"Dr House is gone. I do not know where. Perhaps you can help me find…toxicology for this." She held up the vial. "The contents need analysing."

Foreman resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "House is annoying Cuddy again, isn't he?"

Tawny thought about it for a moment and nodded slowly. "That does seem most likely, yes." She waggled the vial again. "Tox?"

"Sure. Why not?" Foreman shrugged and then raised his arm to usher her down the corridor. "It's just along here."

"So…what part of France are you from?" Foreman asked to make conversation, he might as well get to know a bit about her if he was going to be working with her.

"Gascony." At Foreman's blank look Tawny elaborated. "South west of the country, to the North of Biarritz."

"Oh, nice beaches there."

Tawny raised her eyebrows at him, surprised at his experience of her home country. "You have been?" She asked as she sat by one of the machines in the toxicology lab and set about beginning the tests on the sample of the whisky she had procured.

"One summer during college." Foreman shrugged and eyed the liquid. "What is it exactly that you're testing?"

"Whisky, to see if it has been tampered with." Tawny answered shortly and peered down the microscope at her sample. She frowned, well, nothing out of the ordinary there. She turned to Foreman. "How many tests can this lab perform?"

"Foreman shrugged. As good as any forensic lab. Why? How many do you want to do?"

Tawny thought for a moment and then nodded once as if giving herself permission. "All of them."

Foreman's eyebrows shot up. "All of them?" He gaped for a moment. "That could run into hundreds. You'd run out of whisky before you could do them all."

"Then we had better be lucky quickly then. Hadn't we?" Tawny said as she turned away from Foreman and set about divvying up her sample into test friendly portions. "I suggest you fetch the other two, it will pass quicker if we have help, no?"

Foreman blinked and then spun on his heel to go and 'fetch' Cameron and Chase. He was halfway back to Diagnostics before he realised that he had no real reason for taking Tawny's orders. She had asked and he had done.

Foreman shook his head on a scowl. He was spending far too much time with House.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Another person, in an elevator, was beginning to echo Foreman's thoughts. Cuddy folded her arms across her chest as she watched house lazily spin his cane this way and that above his head. Apparently, completely unperturbed at having been trapped in a metal box suspended nearly four floors up with nothing but a steel cable and air holding them up. She was having a hard time restraining her own impulse to fidget. Unfortunately for her, the impulse was to 'fidget' House right out of his clothes. She rubbed at the back of her neck and sighed as she tried to think glacial thoughts.

"So…"

Cuddy jumped despite herself. The deep baritone of his voice seemed to be magnified in the small space they were sharing and she squirmed at the way it seemed to ripple pleasantly over her skin. She looked up at him and he took this as permission to continue speaking. Not that he needed permission any other time.

"What's with this Burndyke character? What are you doing with him?" House demanded of her as he rattled his vicodin bottle out of his pocket and shook out a pill, tossing it and swallowing it dry.

Perhaps it was Cuddy's own haywire hormones, but there seemed to be a note of possession in House's voice as he spoke of the other man. Cuddy nearly laughed at the idiocy behind that errant thought.

"He's thinking about giving us money, or rather, he's already given us the money and is using that as leverage to hold over my head." Cuddy sighed again and let her head fall back against the wall of the elevator. She was suddenly so tired of sucking up to idiots with silver spoons up their…

"Tell him to get lost then. We don't need another Vogler."

"Huh, I wouldn't mind his hundred grand though." Cuddy opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling of the elevator and then snapped her head down to glare at House. "Anyway, you ungrateful brat, it was that money that allowed you to hire that McQueen woman."

House grinned. "Tawny? Yeah, she's nifty. Cameron hates her. It's great."

"I doubt they'll mud wrestle for you." She said dryly and then added. "And no one says 'nifty' anymore."

"Sure they do. I do. I even say 'swifty' on occasion." House pouted at her.

God, she wanted to kiss him.

No! Hit! She wanted to hit him!

_Or hit on him, you naughty thang. _A small treacherous voice whispered and Cuddy rubbed her fingers over her forehead and decided to imagine being in a cold shower. _It's House. Who'd want to hit on HOUSE? _She demanded the little voice. Her head thumped back against the metal wall of the elevator in disgust. Not only was she talking to herself, but she was answering back now too. _He's a colleague, a subordinate. Off limits you horny skank!_ She continued to berate herself.

House frowned at the internal conflict that seemed to have seized her. he was surprised when she suddenly lurched to her feet and looked as if she wanted to pace about the elevator. Unfortunately, it was three paces wide at the most and that didn't bode to well for working up a good pacing circuit. He lurched to his feet and watched her clack her fingernails against the metal wall of the elevator in impatience. She looked up at the metal grate over their heads.

"Uh, no." He told her before the thought could really take hold.

"What? We're probably only between floors, I could fit out there." She removed her jacket and folded it in the corner and then toed off her shoes, still looking calculatingly at the grate.

He reached out and took hold of her arm. "No way, you could fall. Besides, if you go up there I'll be able to see right up your skirt." It was a weak argument but he had to dissuade her somehow.

"That I can live with but I really can't stay in here with you all day." She wrenched her arm out of his hand and then hiked her skirt up about her legs so that it was just barely decent, House could now tell what kind of garter belt she was wearing. He swore briefly and then wrapped his fingers around her arm again.

"Cuddy, no. You're just going to get hurt."

"And I suppose you're going to stop me?" She demanded of him and swung her foot up onto the hand rail that ran around the elevator at hip height. She could use that to boost herself up.

"I mean it, don't. I'm twice your size and you know I can stop you." He warned her, he almost sounded like he meant it.

"Yeah right, that would involve human contact." She snapped and reached up to jump and grab the grate.

She yelped as she suddenly found herself shoved against the wall. He had done nothing more than flick his wrist and sent her reeling. She noticed that he caught her again to save her from hurting herself. He was suddenly crowding her up against the wall, his larger body filling her vision and his cool spicy scent filling her head. She swallowed and felt like she could already taste him. A sudden flash of him standing in front of her naked, pushing her back over her desk rioted through her head and she shoved at his chest.

"House, you bastard!" She shoved at his chest again and might as well have been trying to shove over the Great Wall of China for all the effect it had. "How dare you touch me?" She was trying to sound annoyed, but she wasn't, her skin was singing where he had touched her. Where his fingers still rested against her sleeve. She sounded just as aroused as she felt. It was rather embarrassing actually.

"Oh, you love it." He told her and tried to ignore how much of a teasing purr was in his voice. He was supposed to be stopping her from getting herself killed, not pinning her to the wall. How had that happened? "Now, stop being an idiot and just stay here like a good girl." He deliberately made sure this was extra patronising just in case she was picking up on exactly how lusty he felt at this moment in time.

"Sometimes I really hate you, you know that?" She snapped at him. Her eyes flashed fire up at him and he couldn't help but think that she looked absolutely gorgeous. His body screamed at him to close the distance between them. To rub the length of his body against hers. He wanted to strip her clothes away with his teeth. He wanted to stroke his skin against hers and compare textures. Would she be like silk or velvet? He bit his lip, he wanted to screw her as hard and as fast as they could both take it and then he wanted to do it all over again.

Hell, he just plain wanted.

"You don't hate me." He found himself saying.

She scoffed at him and a streak of anger blazed through him like lightening on a clear day.

"What you're feeling isn't hate." He felt an irrational anger well up inside him. This saucy little bit wanted to deny the truckload of chemistry that they towed about with them every time they even looked at each other.

Her lips twisted in a wry patronising smile. "Oh, really? Well, since you're an expert on feelings today, why don't you tell me what I'm feeling?" She would have folded her arms over her chest but he was standing too close to allow the motion.

"One word, Cuddy; lust." He smirked at her.

Cuddy tried to laugh a mocking chuckle but it died in her throat at the look on his face. He looked positively dangerous…and sexier than ever. She bit her lip as his gaze dropped to her full mouth. "Prove it." She challenged him, playing with fire and convincing herself that the burn would feel sweet instead of stinging.

"You don't even know what you're asking for." He told her dismissively and she scowled.

She snorted and muttered something as she turned her face away from him. His fingers found her jaw and yanked her back around to face him. "What was that?" He looked genuinely annoyed now and she felt a small thrill race through her at, for once, being the one that was pushing him to the limit.

"I said 'I knew you didn't have the guts for it'." She told him with a great measure of satisfaction in her tone. She only had time to widen her eyes and part her lips as his fingers slid down and around her neck in a loose but firm hold as his mouth came down hard on hers. She made a muffled sound of surprise as he backed her hard against the metal wall of the elevator and jammed his body hard against hers. His cane was tossed away in favour of stroking his hand down the side of her body. Burning through the silk of her shirt and then the expensive wool of her tight, still hiked up skirt, and then down over the silky patch of exposed skin at her thigh. Her eyes fluttered closed as she moaned into his mouth.

The handrail dug into her lower back and she squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position. He sorted the problem for her without once breaking the kiss. His long fingered hands spanned her waist and then hoisted her up to sit on the railing. He nudged her legs apart and stood between them. Her skirt rode up further as she made room for his hips between her quivering thighs. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed him as fiercely as she could. His tongue plunged into her mouth, as roughly as she had dreamt it would. He duelled with her with his mouth. It seemed they had traded verbal barbs for physical ones and were intent on having quite the summit meeting.

"Still think this is hate?" He grated against her ear as he tore his mouth from hers and nibbled his way along her jaw bone.

She threw her head back as he bit gently at her throat in a delicious smudging of the line between pleasure and pain. "Damn straight, you bastard." She gasped and her hips bucked in his hands.

"Huh, I'll show you how much you hate me, shall I?" He asked her as he ripped at her shirt with his teeth and popped the top few buttons free in a skilled movement.

His tongue lapped over the swell of her breast and she shivered. "Oh, please do." She murmured as she arched to his touch. He gripped her thigh in one hand and then slipped the other behind her back to arch her to him as he plucked another few buttons free with his mouth and then swirled his tongue around the aroused peak of her nipple through the satiny fabric of her bra. "Oh _yes!"_ She hissed as she gripped his head between her palms and her hips thrust against his once more. "More." She gasped and was vaguely aware that this was the first time she'd had to beg for anything in bed. All her previous lovers had been willing, if not eager, to let her take charge. She hadn't realised until now, until she was pinned helpless against a wall, that she wanted someone to fight her as much as fuck her. It was a heady sensation.

"Still hate me?" He asked her as his hand trailed around her thigh and slid up the inside of her leg, under the stretched fabric of her skirt to stroke his thumb over the silky smooth skin of the corner of her hip. Despite his words, that were supposed to be accusing, she could hear the amusement in his tone and smiled as she answered him.

"More and more with each passing second." She grinned and then tugged his lips back against hers.

She jerked as his fingers trailed over the edge of her underwear. She squirmed, not quite sure if she wanted to get further away or immeasurably closer. She could feel the hot press of his arousal against her thigh and knew that she wanted him inside her. Knew that he wanted to be there too.

_Uuumm…colleague? _

The voice was hushed in a tidal wave of arousal as he slipped his fingers around her panties and through her wet heat with a light exploring touch.

All the air abruptly vacated her lungs at the effect the simple touch had on her nervous system. Pleasure rocketed up her spine and choked the voice from her. She couldn't even cry out. She gasped for a moment as he scraped his teeth down her neck, grated over her collar bone and then bit his way down the curve of her breast to her nipple. Her hand fisted in his jacket collar and her head clattered against the wall as he pushed two long fingers deep inside her without warning.

"House!" She screamed his name, abruptly finding her voice as her hand twisted and the sound of ripped stitching could be heard. His thumb pressed hard and insistent against her clit and then rolled around the sensitive lust soaked flesh.

"You still hate me, hmm?"

Oh God, he was still talking. She had completely forgotten what they were even arguing about. Her nails scraped against the exposed skin at his neck and then under his tee shirt to grip him more tightly. "I…ah!" He twisted his fingers inside her and she whimpered. "I…I don't know." She gave a small mewling sound of pleasure as he added a third finger and had her bucking wildly in his hold.

"This doesn't seem to be the actions of someone who hates someone else." She had no idea how he still retained enough control to talk, she could barely remember how to breathe and he was stringing whole sentences together.

"Let me…" She pleaded as he twisted his fingers and thrust inside her in a way that was deliberately holding her on the edge. She wriggled, frantic to have that last iota of sensation. She just needed the tiniest nudge to send her careening into pleasure and he was the only one that could give it to her. "Please!" She clawed his back under his shirt and he moaned hard against her neck. "House please." She begged and he lifted his head.

"Say my name." He demanded and his thumb rolled directly over her clit again. She gasped and bucked.

"House!" Her lips were soft against his ear and her voice harsh with need.

"No, not that name. Say my name." He demanded again and spread his fingers inside her as he slid them wetly in and out of her liquid heat.

"GREG! Oh God, Greg." She shattered for him and her inner muscles clamped hard around his hand. He shivered as he imagined how that would feel if it were his straining cock instead of his fingers buried deep inside her. Her head fell forward against his and she panted against his mouth. He pulled his hand from her and stroked her back as he quieted her. He had just sent her up to the moon and back. A minute to recover and then he would have them both dancing up and around Saturn.

She jerked and her eyes flew open as the elevator shuddered and groaned. He gripped her waist in a protective motion and tensed in alarm at the scary noises their metal box was making. Relief coursed through him when it simply shuddered into movement again. The feeling was closely followed by annoyance when he realised he was still as hard as stone under his jeans and he wouldn't get the chance to keep Cuddy pinned against the wall anymore.

"Fuck!" Cuddy swore and jumped out of his hold to start tugging her jacket back on, toeing her shoes on and then straightening her skirt and hair.

"Unfortunately not." House murmured and snagged his cane as he watched the lit up numbers tick down towards the ground floor. She froze, her gaze glued to his groin as he painfully readjusted himself.

"Oh my…" She murmured her cheeks flaming as she hurriedly looked away and finished buttoning up her jacket. She had less than a minute until the doors swished open to reveal the lobby of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. "Are you…? Um..." She trailed off, not quite sure how to finish that question.

She was saved any further embarrassment as the doors swished open. Noise and fresh air rushed in and dispelled the scent of sex and lust that hung in the air between them. Cuddy blinked as her head finally began to clear. She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. She stepped out into the lobby and looked back at him, he was standing with his hands folded on top of his cane effectively hiding the shape of what was, quite frankly, the most impressive erection Cuddy had ever seen. He hadn't been joking when he'd said he was twice the size of her. They'd never fit together.

_Oh, but it would definitely be fun to try!_ The voice returned and Cuddy rolled her eyes at herself.

He seemed to read her mind as he limped, more painfully than usual, from the elevator and stood over her. "This isn't over." He told her and shifted uncomfortably again. "I'm a man who finishes what he starts and I've only just begun with you." His voice was a dark silk of intent and she swallowed hard as she looked up at him.

Cuddy watched in alarm as he stepped back into the elevator and then pressed the button for his floor. It finally hit her exactly what had happened and her lips parted in dumbfounded wonder. _How _could she have let House do that to her?

This would ruin their already strained working relationship. She had just let him ravage whatever remnant of respect he might have had for her. He was _never _going to do anything she asked of him ever again.

That wasn't exactly a new development though…she shook that thought away as she scowled at herself. What was she supposed to do now?

_You could always let him to it again. _The treacherous voice whispered.

"Oh shut up." She snapped and then looked over at a resident who looked guiltily at her. She frowned. "I wasn't talking to you." She growled and spun on one heel to stalk back to her office.

Great, now her staff thought she was crazy. Could this day get any worse? She looked up as she took her place behind her desk and saw Burndyke shuffling towards her office.

In other words, yes, the day could get _much _worse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hola, chickadees! **

**Look, Spanish…almost. **

**Anyways, nuther update for ye. SMUUUUUTTTTTT!!!!!**

**And a smattering of plot, but not too much. **

**Read and review!! **

**Chapter 6: Squirrelly Wrath**

Tawny McQueen threw open the door to Cuddy's office and gestured with one imperious hand at the dark haired woman behind the desk.

"See? She is in her office, now will you leave me be?" She demanded viciously of Burndyke, towering over the smaller man and he nodded with a look of smug satisfaction.

"Thank you Dr McQueen." Burndyke smirked with his nasal wine and Cuddy repressed the urge to throw herself out the window if only to escape. She was still reeling from her episode in the elevator with none other than Gregory damn House and she really wasn't in the mood to be dealing with the resident idiot donor.

She opened her mouth to say something to Burndyke that would hopefully make him go away when the syllables died on her lips before they were uttered. Her gaze had caught on the massive grey hulking figure that was behind Burndyke and shouldering its way into her office. Cuddy didn't know whether to laugh or cry as a huge line-backer shaped man in a squirrel suit shuffled into the office in soft furry feet and looked down at Burndyke.

"You Mr Burndyke?"

Burndyke blinked up at the massive man in a huge fuzzy squirrel suit, painted face and buck teeth. He nodded rather dumbly and a clipboard was thrust towards him.

"Sign here." The squirrel demanded. Burndyke singed the pertinent form.

Tawny simply tilted her head to watch the exchange and arched an eyebrow behind her yellow lens glasses. She looked over at Cuddy and silently questioned with a gesture between the two.

Cuddy could only wordlessly shake her head and shrug.

It was then that the squirrel burst into a rousing rendition of 'Burning Love' by Elvis Presley, complete with lip curl, hip swivel and a healthy garnishing of acorn shaped confetti for the chorus.

Tawny took this all in with a certain measure of grace smirked once at Cuddy and then made her escape as quickly as possible so she could have a fit of hilarity in peace.

Cuddy could only stare at the squirrel as he moved onto the next song. Burndyke looked vaguely amused but altogether frightened as well.

A glare settled itself over Cuddy's features, as well he should be.

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House sat in his chair behind his desk and listened to the dulcet tones of Queen filling the room at full volume. He was, for the lack of a better word, brooding. He sat, bouncing his cane against the floor and mulling over what had happened in the elevator. It had been strange. He hadn't gone into the lift with the intention of pushing her up against the wall and bringing her off with his hands but…he'd ended up doing it all the same.

More still, he'd enjoyed it.

Not as much as he'd wanted to but still…with Cuddy?

They fought all the time, and there were of course all the rumours flying around about them, not so much to do with him recently, though he'd done his fair share of the grinding of the rumour mill in the past. He had fallen asleep on top of her the other night and it had been one of the best night's sleep he'd ever had, though he was reluctant to contribute that to the fact that Cuddy having been in his bed.

They argued every single day and not once before had they ever come even close to acknowledging the blatant sexual tension between them, never mind acting upon it. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw as he whirled the facts about in his brain as easily as he might shuffle a deck of cards.

She was attractive, no, she was beautiful, she was smart, funny and she had a wicked sense of humour. Not only could she stand up to his barbs but she was almost as good at manipulating him as he was at getting to her. They toyed with each other often enough so as to keep each other firmly wrapped around the other's finger. It made sense that he would respond to her, any red-blooded male would, but he couldn't help but notice he had completely lost control in the elevator. They had been trading insults, they always did, but their words hadn't been nearly as dangerous as they could have been, there was no reason for him to have pushed it like that.

To have kissed her or for her to have kissed him back.

No reason.

Also, the thing's head said. That he had just begun with her. Where the hell had that come from? It was like something had reached into his brain and switched reason off while switching all the hormones he possessed on.

He tapped his chin with his fingers and inhaled on a sigh, he stilled as a sweet scent filled his head and fuzzed his thinking. A familiar delicious scent. He looked down and his eye caught on the stain at his wrist, where the whisky had spilled on him. Suddenly it all fell into place in his head. He made a sound of triumph as he lurched to his feet and towards the door. He had to find Tawny and tell her what to test the whisky for.

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Cuddy snarled in irritation as she stalked into her office at the end of the day and threw herself into her chair. She scowled at the world in general and slammed open her desk drawer and rummaged around inside. She snarled and slammed it shut, not looking for anything in particular, but intent on making a lot of noise as she did so. She wriggled the mouse and slapped it against the desktop as it was too slow in responding and resisted the strong urge to go online and buy stock in squirrel traps.

Burndyke had not only let the squirrel to continue to serenade him to such classics as; _I Want To Ride My Bicycle, Don't Cry For Me Argentina, Angels _and, of course, the entire score to the musical _HMS Pinafore. _

Cuddy looked down and stilled as her eyes lit on the bottle of whisky in her desk drawer. She looked out into the empty lobby as she lifted the bottle and hummed softly to herself as she considered the contents of the bottle in her hand. She swirled it and enjoyed the play of colour that the red and golden liquids made as they mixed. It was late, there was nobody around and she had technically been off duty for the past hour.

Dispensing with any further justification on her part. Cuddy unscrewed the bottle and lifted it to her lips, swallowing a generous mouthful and enjoying the slow burn as it slid down her throat in a molten caress. She licked her lips and set the bottle on the desk edge and sat back in her chair. She sat quietly for a few moments and just relaxed as she reached up and tumbled her hair out of the strict knot she held it in at her nape.

Heat simmered under her skin so violently that she trembled with it, she shut her eyes tighter and tried to ignore it as the intense urge to be satiated once more. She had only felt truly at peace once in all of this rotten day and that had been in the few blissful seconds in the elevator after House had…her mind shied away from the thought. Analysing that just now would probably just make her feel worse.

She chuckled wryly, thinking it slightly ironic that House, usually a man that proved to aggravate her, would soothe her today.

The laugh died in her throat as the door swung open. She had shut the blinds so as to be, hopefully, left alone. Apparently, someone thought whatever crises they were facing was worth risking her bad mood. She opened her eyes, a snarl on her lips that she let die as soon as she saw who it was.

"What do you want?" She demanded of him as soon as he limped through the slats of the blinds.

"That's no way to talk to your doctor." House said, playing hurt as he smirked at her. She was in no mood to play.

"It's been a long day, House, why don't you just go home and drink yourself into a stupor or something." She grumbled and pointedly didn't look at the whisky bottle sitting so prominently on her desk.

"That's what you're planning?" He asked her brightly and she resisted the urge to throw the bottle at him.

"Go away." She said and ignored the petulant tone in her own voice.

He sat on the edge of her desk and grinned down at her instead. "I know what's wrong with you." He said smugly and she smirked tightly at him.

"So do I, he's about six three, skinny and has a limp." She growled and wished that she hadn't kicked her shoes off, she was so much smaller than he was and it really showed if she stood next to him without her heels. In body language, size was power and he would outstrip her in that so easily tonight that it would border on ridiculous. She sighed and resigned herself to sitting.

"Be nice." He told her and she stopped herself from sticking her tongue out at him just in time. "It's actually very simple." He mused as he toyed with his cane and then looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You wanna know?"

"I burn with questions." She answered drolly as she propped her chin on her hand and watched him.

"Well, no, I imagine that you're burning because you have a temperature and your hormones are so out of whack you feel like you haven't had a decent lay in _years._ Which I know to be blatantly untrue." He said casually as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She sat back and huffed. "You weren't that good." She said automatically. It was a blatant lie but the truth was never really an all important factor in their sparring matches.

"Oh, but I was and you know it, you wouldn't have begged otherwise." He said almost nonchalantly and her eyes flew to his, seeing that dangerous edge to him again. She stilled as something interested stirred deep inside her. She bit her lip and they both looked away from each other and reached for a control that simply wasn't there. House huffed out a breath and struggled to not reach across the desk and drag her out of that seat and under him. Damn, this was powerful stuff they were playing with.

He cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. "It's that." He croaked and pointed his cane at the whisky sitting innocuously on the edge of her desk.

"What about it?" She asked, glad for any distraction as she reached over and examined the bottle.

"It's laced with pheromones, they're what's making us act…like this." He stood and walked away and then whirled back towards her before she had finished properly digesting this piece of information. "Isn't it?"

"What?" She was beginning to feel a bit like a broken record and she shoved her feet back into her shoes before standing and rounding the desk, stalking towards him.

He had that intense look about him again as he stood by the door and watched her come towards him. He could no more walk away than she could. They were drawn to each other and completely and willingly ensnared in each other's trap. She licked her lips as she stopped in front of him.

"Isn't it what, House?" She demanded again quietly.

"That is why you let me have you, isn't it?" He asked in that same harsh tone and she swallowed hard.

"Maybe."

He took half a step towards her so that they were almost touching. The rational part of his brain seemed to have completely shut down as he looked down at her and remembered how good she had felt shivering, screaming and coming in his arms. "Maybe?"

She nodded and then, just like that, her control snapped. She gave a small purring growl as she shoved him roughly against the door, her body plastered against his in an instant as she tilted her head to his and his mouth came down hard over hers. He made a muffled sound of pleasure as their tongues tangled together. Her hands reached up and splayed over his shoulders and down his arms, her nails scoring the material of his jacket as she gripped him.

His arms wrapped around her waist and his hands strayed down over the curve of her ass and dragged her closer to him. She whimpered against his lips at the hard feel of him against her lower belly. Heat spiralled through her as her fingers found the top buttons of his rumpled shirt and plucked at them, peeling away the fabric to reveal the warm tanned skin underneath. She pulled the sky blue material away so she could see the sculpted planes of his chest and belly. She tore her mouth from his and kissed her way along his jaw towards his ear where she whispered to him harshly.

"You think this is us under the influence?"

He gasped as her fingers continued to pull his shirt apart until it was completely unbuttoned. Her hands trailed over his belly and then swept along the waistband of his jeans low on his hips. She chuckled as he attempted to answer her and her mouth nipped a steaming trail down his neck, over his collar bone to nibble at the swell of his pectoral. Her tongue lapped out to lave around his nipple and he groaned as she pressed him against the door with insistent hands, obviously wanting him to just stand there while she had an in-depth tasting session.

Which was just as well, really, he couldn't really move. His cane had clattered to the floor and he felt boneless with anticipation.

Her hands joined her mouth on his chest and trailed after her lips as she dropped to her knees and kissed and licked her way down his belly. He was only vaguely aware of the clink of his belt buckle being undone over the roaring in his ears and the singing of his skin. He wanted to stop her, if she was going to do what he thought she was going to do, then he wouldn't last more than two minutes.

"Cuddy." He managed to grate out as she unsnapped his jeans and they parted readily around the hard ridge of him. He hissed out a breath between his teeth, completely at her mercy but trying to talk anyway. "Lisa!" He gasped as if in pain and she looked up at him.

"Yes?" She tugged his jeans and shorts down in one fluid motion and wrapped her fingers around him with one molten stroke. House shut his eyes as pleasure rocketed up his spine, his head smacked back against the door and he thumped it with his fist.

"Never mind." He whispered at the ceiling and he felt her chuckle as well as heard it as she laved her tongue up the underside of his straining cock. He shivered as she wrapped her fingers around him and then drew her thumb over the dripping head of his erection. He swore as she repeated the motion with her tongue.

Then she took him in her mouth and he nearly yelled at the hot pleasure of it, her tongue lapped lazily against his glans and he panted roughly as she took him as deeply as she could and stroked what she couldn't with her skilled fingers. She hummed against him, the sound a noise of surprised pleasure as if she had expected him to taste good but was taken aback at exactly how delicious he was. The vibrations from her moan echoed along his hard length, up his spine and thundered through his head. She had been toying with him for mere seconds and he was on a knife edge, ready to explode at the least provocation.

He couldn't remember the last time a woman had done this for him and he didn't think any of them had ever enjoyed it as much as she obviously did. He reached down and stroked the side of her face as his hips thrust involuntarily. Her hand tightened at the base of his shaft and he groaned as she held him still and pulled away to swirl her tongue around the heated head of him. His fingers tangled in her hair as he said something mindlessly over and over like a prayer falling from his lips. It took him a few seconds to realise that it was her name.

"Lisa, Lisa, Lisa." He moaned it out to the impassive furniture of her office and choked on the words as she abruptly took him as deep as she could in her hot mouth and sucked hard enough to hollow her cheeks against the satin steel of him. He shouted wordlessly as he exploded for her, thrusting his hips and coming hard and fast into her beautiful soft mouth.

He sagged against the door and slipped down to the floor as his knees buckled under him. He looked over at her as she knelt in front of him still. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed as their eyes met and then she hurriedly looked away from him as if embarrassed. She rose to her feet and stalked across her office, snatching up her purse and grabbing her jacket, she chanced on last look at him sprawled against her door and bit her swollen lip between white teeth.

He looked up at her and that appeared to be her undoing. She walked over to him, threw open the unlocked door and strode out into the lobby without a word.

House stared after her incredulously.

Oh, hell no. A woman did not give him the best damn blow job he'd ever had, enjoy it nearly as much as he did and then just walk away without another word. He snatched up his cane, hurriedly rearranged himself and then hobbled out of the office after her.

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Outside, Cuddy threw herself into her car and slammed the keys in the ignition. She couldn't believe what she had just done. She had just…in her office no less! She pressed a hand to her still flaming cheek as she jammed the car into reverse and then squealed out of her parking space and around up the ramp, into the hot New Jersey night and into the post rush hour traffic.

What the hell had come over her?

One minute they're having a relatively civil discussion, as their discussions went and the next thing she knows, she's on her knees with her lips and hands wrapped around his cock. Cuddy opened the windows in her car and hauled in a breath of the cool night air.

She couldn't think. Her brain had completely shut down. The same as in the elevator. They had been standing together and all she could think of was how good it would be to have him begging her as much as she'd been begging him. How delicious he would taste in her mouth. How she could make him shiver under hands. She ran a shaking hand through her mussed hair.

All she knew was that she had wanted him and nothing on this earth could have stopped her from having him. Unabated arousal hammered through her as she ran her tongue over her lips, she could still taste the musky tone of him on her tongue. She shuddered as a fresh wave of heat coursed through her.

Oh God, what was happening to her?


	7. Chapter 7

**Uumm…yeah. I do have a thing about singing squirrels but that was in the original and was recycled for the 'Temporary Insanity' fiction so I suppose I can get away with it. **

**WOOT! **

**Watched the first episode of season three! Mwahahahaha. It is ridiculous how happy this program makes me. I've been on fanfiction too long though because when I saw Cuddy in the bed I was like; 'Why isn't House there too?' **

**Ack! **

**Hurry up writer ppl and get with the huddyness! I want it on ma telly! **

**I don't think they're listening. **

**You may have noticed that Lorcain has grown a tad since his last outing in this fic but hey, I'm the writer and I can change what I like. **

**Anyways, muchas Huddy smut in the chapter after this one. Read and review and I dunno, give me an idea for 'Random' because the inspiration ran away. **

**On the bright side, the novel is going well. Sort of 'Die Hard' meets 'Lord of the Rings' but much frostier. **

**Natch, no? **

**See ya kiddies soon! **

**Chapter 7: One Reason**

"What are we missing?" House growled as he thumped his head against the edge of the whiteboard and resisted the urge to make his team go and suffer some horrible fate. Tempting though it was to blame them for this, he kind of needed them to do his every whim. He turned slowly as a knock sounded at the door and a tall teenage boy walked into the room.

"Hey, I'm looking for Dr McQueen, you guys seen her?" The kid had on odd accent, sounded vaguely French actually with a mixture of…something else completely. He was tall with black hair that hung over long down over one eye and was cut short at the back, flashing green eyes took in the inhabitants of the room in a single sweep and he tossed his head as he waited for an answer in an eerily familiar gesture.

House jerked his head towards the balcony. "Cigarette break." He answered and watched another familiar scowl settle over the boy's features as he muttered something dark about cancer sticks and strode out into the balcony with a confidant gait.

"Hey, mum!" He barked at Tawny and she whirled, her cigarillo in one manicured hand. "I thought you were quitting?" The boy demanded and Tawny grinned and muttered something as she stubbed the cigarillo out and walked towards the boy embracing him warmly and speaking rapidly in French to him.

House watched the exchange with interest. He had known she was married but he never would have figured her old enough to have a teenage son, she didn't look any older than thirty.

"Mum, mum, French!" The boy said and extricated himself from her hold as easily as he could. Pretending to be embarrassed at the obvious affection she had for him.

Tawny switched fluidly to English. "Where's your father? I thought he was taking you to school."

"He was, the beer guy showed late though, so I need cash for the school trip that we're supposed to be going on and you've gotta sign the consent form for me tae go." He said as he trailed her back into the main briefing room, Tawny reached for her purse and pulled out a roll of bills, pulling of three or four and handing them to her son without further thought. She snapped her fingers and gestured to her son.

"Consent form." She demanded as she pulled a pen from the dumbfounded fingers of Dr Foreman.

"You gonnae introduce us, mum?" The boy elbowed her and Tawny scanned the form as she waved between them and made introductions.

"Doctors Gregory House, Eric Foreman, Robert Chase and Alison Cameron meet my son; Lorcain McQueen." Tawny said absently and Lorcain nodded a greeting to each of them with a small half wave to House and a wink at Cameron. Tawny caught the last gesture and glared at him.

"Looking very business like today, mum." Lorcain said on a grin as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Tawny tossed her head and planted her hands on her hips. She was dressed in a steel grey pant suit with forest green silk shirt and matching stiletto heels, her trademark sunglasses were still perched on her nose but these ones had green lenses and silver frames. "And you look like you haven't got a home to go to. It really is beyond me why you must pay a hundred dollars to look like you've rolled off the street." Tawny shot back and signed the form before slapping it lightly against her son's chest. He winced at the blow and she arched a brow at him. He straightened immediately with a charming grin and House felt a small pang for any teenage girls that would be on the receiving end of that grin.

"Fashion, mum. Got to keep the ladies happy." He bobbed his eyebrows at that and tawny sighed.

"I do _not_ want to have to deal with another irate father when I get home tonight. Do I make myself clear?" Her tone brooked no argument and Lorcain nodded hurriedly.

"Right. Mental note; don't get caught." He tapped his temple with a finger and grinned. "Locked in the vault."

"You'll be locked in your room if you're not careful now shoo. Go. Be educated." Tawny presented her cheek to him which he duly kissed and then ushered him out the office. She turned back to the team and took in their stares. "What?"

House was the first to speak. "I didn't know you were a teenage mom." He grinned at her and she tilted her head with a glare at him. "How old is Lorcain?" He demanded.

"Sixteen." She said shortly.

"And you are…?" Chase asked, looking over her, he wouldn't have put her at much younger than himself at thirty four.

"It's rude to ask a lady her age." Tawny answered smoothly and House grinned again.

"We'll remember that when we see a lady. How old were you when you got pregnant?"

Tawny sighed, she knew enough about Gregory House by now to know that he wasn't about to give up on this. The more tightly she held on to the information, the harder he was going to tug until he got what he wanted.

"I'm thirty five, do the math." She told him and took her seat at the end of the briefing table. "Weren't we working? I think it has something to do with the protein deficiency." She said assertively and sat back in her seat.

"Why?" House demanded.

Tawny shrugged.

"Oh well, as long as we go with _that_ towering pile of medical reasoning." He snarked at her and she flipped him a two fingered salute.

"I said I thought it had something to do with it. I didn't say I had a reason." Tawny told him coolly.

House opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of that and stilled as something occurred to him. He looked to the team and issued sharp orders to go and run another battery of tests and begin the treatment anyway. Tawny tapped the edge of her pen against the glass table as she watched the team to scurry and do his bidding. He looked at her expectantly. She arched a brow back at him.

"I am not a minion. I'm a surgeon." She said distinctly and he scowled at her.

"Fine, go and do my clinic hours then." He told her and she snorted in amusement.

"How is Cuddy?" She asked instead and House's shoulders tensed as she hit on the one subject he didn't want to talk about.

"How am I supposed to know?" He said back on a forced casual shrug.

"Did you tell her about the poisoned whisky?"

"It wasn't really poisoned…" House attempted to reason but Tawny cut him off.

"An otherwise harmless drink is laced with a foreign substance that, if enough of it is taken into the system, can cause severe harm to the victim. How is that not poisoning?"

"People hate you big picture folks, you know that?" He looked over his shoulder at her and scowled. She only smiled back at him.

"I know." Her expression grew more serious as she tapped her finger against her lips. "I tracked down the manufacturer of the whisky, it's a very small and I don't think very legal business, right here in New Jersey." House looked over at her expectantly. "The owner wasn't particularly open to discussion about this particular brand of whisky but I managed to persuade him…she's going to become ill, House."

House trained his full attention on the woman across from him as he took the seat opposite her. "How ill?"

"She won't be able to keep food down, mood swings, sensitivity to light and touch, dehydration and a massive sex drive, apparently." Tawny told him bluntly.

"There's a treatment right?" House demanded and Tawny nodded slowly. She didn't think the dean would be particularly accepting of this particular brand of physical therapy.

She looked up at House and pursed her lips before saying carefully. "That's where the increased sex drive comes into it, think about it." She told him and rose to her feet and left the room.

House sat back and watched her go. He had some thinking to do.

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Cuddy rinsed her mouth out with water and then brushed her teeth enthusiastically in the small bathroom just off her office. She felt awful and hungry on top of that. She was starving but couldn't seem to keep anything down since last night. She splashed water on her face and then fixed her make up for the third time that day. She was beginning to think that she just shouldn't bother with the damn stuff. Mascara was becoming increasingly difficult to apply when you couldn't quite seem to get your hand to stop shaking.

Finally looking fit for human consumption, Cuddy gave one last straightening tug to her jacket and then strode out into the main room of her office. She had dimmed the lights and closed the blinds, for some reason the bright light just made her feel worse. She didn't notice him on the couch until he snagged her wrist and dragged her down next to him on it. She gave a small cry of surprise and swallowed it when a familiar surge of heat went through her at the skin on skin contact of his hand on her pulse.

"House! What are you doing here?" She scrambled backwards on the couch and tried to get as far away from him as she could. The last time she had seen him he had been sprawled on the floor against her office door, and the time before that he had pinned her up against the wall of an elevator.

What the hell was going to happen this time?

"Relax, cuddles, I brought lunch." He told her cheerfully and held up a box of delicious smelling take out in the container.

Cuddy's stomach grumbled in hunger even as it roiled at the thought of more food. She tensed as she watched him, he was up to something. She didn't know what it was but she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be good for her. "What'd you bring?" She asked to distract herself as much as him.

"Southern fried chicken, potato wedges and gravy, mmm." He said as he popped the box open and waggled it in front of her nose. "Nummy, and none of that KFC stuff either, this is the real deal." He informed her and bit into a potato wedge with relish, savouring the spiced taste of the crispy skin.

She was still watching him warily.

"It's not poisoned." He told her, a note of offence in his voice. "Would I do that to you?"

"If it benefited you? Of course you would." She snorted at him and eyed the chicken. She really was hungry…

"Wait, I need to do something first." He told her and his voice dragged her attention back to him.

She opened her mouth to ask him what when his lips covered her own. She jerked in surprise and her lips parted on a gasp against his mouth. It was all the invitation he needed. His tongue swept over hers as his arm circled around her waist. The kiss was deep and his mouth hard on hers as he took her and hauled her against his hard chest with a low growl of possession.

Cuddy moaned throatily at the delicious contact and angled her body more firmly against his. She arched towards him and slid her leg up over his and hooked it over his thigh. She could feel the hard length of him against her knee and shivered with anticipation, her hand trailed down the front of his shirt and then under the hem to slide over the warm skin of his belly.

He pulled away from her suddenly and sucked in a breath, trying to regain some control. Damn, he'd only had a mouthful of the whisky and he was on a knife edge, she'd drunk half of it, it was a wonder that she hadn't pinned the nearest man long ago and just worked it clean out of her system.

"Oh my…you!" She scowled at him and slapped his shoulder hard before hauling herself away from him and up of the couch. "Why would you do that?!" She demanded, angry at him now.

"Do you feel better?" He panted and squirmed on the couch, in no position to stand.

"What?" She was rubbing at her temple and trying to shove the lust in her system back from a twelve to a more manageable number. She swallowed in her dry throat and succeeded only partially to a ten. Her blood felt hot and heavy in her veins and she wanted nothing more to get back on that couch and finish what he'd started but she held herself back stubbornly.

She would not give in to Gregory House.

"Do you feel better? Do you still want to hurl?" He asked her more insistently and she scowled at him. How had he even…? She stilled, actually she did feel better.

"How did you…?" She shook her head rapidly and snatched up her lunch instead. "Forget it, I don't want to know. It's bad enough that you were just doing it to satisfy your curiosity." She grumbled and bit into the warm crunchy chicken. It tasted so good.

"Trust me, it wasn't my curiosity I was satisfying." He readjusted his jeans and she felt a brief pang for how uncomfortable he was. Then she scowled. It was his own damn fault and she wasn't inclined to be very compassionate towards him at the moment. She ate a potato wedge before she opened her mouth and forgave him.

He watched her a moment as she ate while she was fairly confidant she could keep it down. "Why did you leave last night? Things were just getting interesting."

She stilled and looked at him before finishing what she was eating. Her eyes dropped to his lap and did nothing to help him subside as her cheeks flamed. He found himself wondering if she would blush all over when he fucked her.

"I…I didn't like what was happening to me." She said it slowly, without looking at him and finished her lunch. She picked up her soda and pressed the cold cup to her throat in an effort to cool the fever that she was running.

"Well, I definitely liked what was happening to me. Now, was it the lust that you didn't like, or the lack of control?"

She looked at him finally and pressed her lips together before answering. "Isn't it funny how you always want the one thing you can't have?" She said and he frowned at that.

"What? You think I'm unwilling?" He snorted in disbelief at that. She couldn't possibly think that.

"No…I just…there are a million and one reasons why I shouldn't be even having this conversation with you." She stood and paced restlessly. He rose and stopped her with a hand on her wrist. Her pulse raced under his fingers and it struck him exactly how ill she looked. Her skin flushed and glistening and that glassy look over her eyes. He was used to saying to hell with the rules and treating his patients anyway. He pulled her closer to him and she came willingly, the pheromones running riot through her system and her pupils dilating.

"Cuddy…Lisa, you only need one reason to go through with this. We both know there's only one outcome to this and the longer you put it off the worse we both feel. So, you decide you're going to be a grown up about this and take your damn medicine just give me a call." He smirked at her lowered his mouth to her neck, she made a small sound as his lips traced the shell of her ear and he inhaled the soft scent of her hair.

"I mean it, just say the word, and I'll be there." He told her and she trembled in his arms before quickly pulling away. She looked up at him, suddenly vulnerable and backed away. For the second time in as many days, she snatched up her purse and jacket, opened her office door and walked out on him.

He gritted his teeth in more than one kind of frustration as he watched her go.

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Cuddy tried to breathe in a more regular and calming rhythm as she paced up and down her hallway. Her skin felt three sizes too small, her head was pounding and she felt she needed sex like she needed to breathe.

Not just any sex though, noooo, it had to be House. She didn't know why but she wanted him to pin her up against the wall again and pound into her until they were both screaming. She shivered and steadied herself with a hand against the wall as a vicious cramp tugged at her stomach. She bit her lip and scrubbed a hand over her face. She felt like she was burning.

She wore no clothes, the feel of even silk fabric against her skin was too much to bear and she'd had to tie her hair up in a knot to keep it from brushing against her sensitized skin. She gritted her teeth and thought about her options.

One; continue to try and ride it out and stay a little while longer in hell.

Two; go to her medical kit and sedate herself.

Three; call House and say the word.

She cringed at the last and most tempting of her options. She didn't even know what the 'word' was and she wanted to climb up on the roof and scream it to the world. She stopped her pacing long enough to press her back against the cool plaster of the wall. In a moment it would become too much to even tolerate that smooth coolness against her back but she took the minute relief where she could get it.

She couldn't call him. She knew that she would never be able to actually pick up the phone, dial the number that she knew by heart, and ask him to come over. She would choke on the words, falter with the buttons and hang up without saying anything.

Cuddy hauled herself away from the wall. She had to do _something. _She stalked to the door, snatched up her keys and tugged on her cashmere overcoat, belting it tightly at her waist. Pushing her feet into her heels almost as an afterthought, she stalked out of the front door and locked it hurriedly behind herself before she could think of something better to do.

The expensive wool felt erotic against her skin for the moment as she slung herself into the Lexus and turned the engine over with a snarl from under the hood.

She knew she'd never be able to ask House to come to her but that didn't mean she couldn't damn well go to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: oh, you cuties for all your reviews! **

**I thought you weren't going to but lo! There you are, and such nice things you say too. I'm glad everyone likes Tawny mark 2, because her first version was absolutely dire. She's less Mary-sue-ish you'll all be glad to note and the story will also be a lot better and a lot more in character this time around. **

**I don't think that anyone on will have read the first version of this, but take my word for it, you're lucky to have not to it was chronically bad. The story was tacked together as I went along, Tawny was a raging Mary-sue and House and Cuddy were so out of character they were practically George and Betty from Pleasantville.**

**Argh, I hear you shriek. But fear not, for I am older and wiser and won't do that to you lot again. **

**Except for in 'Family Secret' on I don't know what happened to Huddy in character-ness, but it definitely left at somepoint after chapter…1. **

**Ah well, I've ranted enough, read and review if it pleases you to do so. **

**Chapter 8: Not Doing This**

Cuddy managed to stagger from her car to his door by a sheer act of will. She clung to the door frame as she shuddered violently and wrapped her arms around herself. She recognised the symptoms of withdrawal and promised herself to be more understanding of his vicodin addiction in future. Her fist rapped hard against the door as she leant heavily against the frame and hoped she didn't just fall flat on her face when he opened it.

She rested her head against her hand and panted through clenched teeth. Good god, the man still had one good leg. It shouldn't take this long to open the door. She felt the warm draft from his heated apartment as he finally swung the door open.

"Cuddy?" He sounded…worried.

She opened her bloodshot eyes and glared at him. "No, it's the tooth fairy." She growled on her newly harsh voice and staggered into the apartment, shaking off his elbow when he gripped her there to steady her. "I'm fine." She snapped and the lie was automatic, they both knew it. "We need to talk." She told him as she tried to breathe through another vicious twisting cramp and held herself up using the couch.

"Jesus, what about?" He asked absently as he steadied her, whether she liked it or not and tilted her face so that he could see her pupils and try and gauge their reaction. "This is hitting you harder than I thought it was going to. We have to get you into the hospital so I can run some tests." He told her and reached for his mobile.

"No!" She blurted and snapped her hand around his wrist, his pulse thrummed strong under her fingers and she swallowed against the tidal pull of lust in her body towards him. She bit her lip and panted briefly as she tried to regain control and make sure she was coherent when she spoke. "We both know that's not going to do any good."

"What else am I supposed to do?" He demanded of her, more worried than even he wanted to admit to himself. She looked awful.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth as he spoke and he realised all at once how close they were standing. How she was leaning against him so that she didn't fall. How warm and soft she felt against his lean frame.

"Nothing." She breathed and then she tugged his head down to hers. Her mouth angled hard against his and their tongues tangling. She moaned as if given some long awaited relief, her next fix, and tangled her fingers through his hair and her arms around his neck, her body stretched up against his. His arm came around her waist and dragged her pelvis against his the hard exclamation of lust that was his cock hot even through the layers of clothing that separated them still. She wriggled against him wanting, no, needing more contact, more heat, more him.

She wanted him.

Now.

House grunted as he abruptly found himself slammed back against his living room wall. Cuddy gave a small panting grin as she stalked after him and kissed him again like she wanted to devour him from the inside out. Her hands roamed over his shoulders and under his shirt, yanking his tee shirt up and smoothing it out of the way so she could see his chest. She licked her lips like a hungry tigress and flicked a glance up to his face.

"Off." She demanded and peeled his shirt off of him as if in demonstration, his tee following closely behind.

"What are we doing?" He wanted to know as she pinned on of his hands against the wall with her own and swirled her tongue around his ear. "Feels like sex." He rumbled in her ear and she shivered as if shot up with a narcotic at the words.

"We're not…not doing that." She said as her tongue lapped down his neck and her teeth scored over his collar bone. "You taste good."

"Not having sex?" He clarified and negotiated his hand out from under hers.

"No." She told him. His belt was unbuckled with a clank.

"You sure?" She ripped it from the belt loops even as she nodded.

"Sure." She agreed and the belt clunked to the floor. "This is…"

"A medical?" He asked sardonically as she began to work on his jeans snap.

"Whatever." She agreed mindlessly. She really didn't care as long as he could make it stop and let her have some peace.

"As long as we're sure." He said and claimed her mouth again. He managed to navigate his hands between their bodies and untied the belt at her waist. The expensive cashmere wool parted for him and he tore his mouth from hers and looked down as his fingers encountered nothing but skin. "Fuck, you're naked under this?" He already knew the answer as she shrugged the coat away and let it drop carelessly to the floor. She unclipped her hair and it tumbled wildly down around her shoulders in a fantastic cascade of silky curls. He'd admit later that he'd always had a bit of a fetish for her hair and seeing it spilling down over her naked, fabulous, breasts was more than enough to ensure life-long devotion as far as he was concerned. She now wore nothing but her luscious grin and a pair of blood red spiked heels.

Oy vey.

He was momentarily stunned but she solved the problem by lifting his hand and setting it over the curve of her breast. He stroked her automatically and she gave a keening purr as she arched to him like a cat desirous of a good petting and cupped the back of his neck with her other hand. He swore as she threw herself abruptly backwards and took him down with her. They clattered to the floor as she laughed under him and wrapped her long legs around his hips and ground herself up against him. "Fuck me." She demanded shortly and threw her arms up over her head and tilted her head at him with a slow smile. "I know you want to, Greg, I can see it every time you look at me. Now…" She lowered her arms and sat up on her elbows so their mouths were a breath apart. "Here's your chance, and make it last because I may not be inclined to give you another."

Something primitive inside him flexed and roared at that. She was going to try and keep herself from him after this? He didn't think so. His mouth crashed down on hers and they fought each other deliciously. His kiss was hard, so she bit his lip. He rolled his hips against hers and she ground right back at him. He gripped her hips and she scored her nails right down the length of his back. He pinned her hands above her head and she bit his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

It was hard, almost violent, the way the teased each other. Not once did it occur to them that they might hurt one another. They knew each other too well. Twenty years of verbally copulating every day and they finally get to the real thing…this was a well practiced dance that they had been squaring up for a long time.

He shoved his jeans down his legs as his patience ran dangerously low. Playing was all well and good, but he was tiring of the games. He wanted his prize and he wanted it now. He nipped her neck and lower down over her breasts, nipping and biting on the edge of painful and then soothing the marks with his tongue. It drove her wild. She bucked and writhed under him with a harsh scream as he gripped a nipple between his teeth and lashed it with his tongue. His cock slid over her wet core and gave her the last sensation she needed to arch her back and cry out on a sharp release for him. Fantastic spasms racked her body and she shivered under him on a moan as she tingled from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

Her eyes were heavy as her chest heaved. She looked up at him from under heavy lashes of smoky bedroom eyes. Her tongue traced her lips and he grinned down at her and braced himself above her on strong arms. She angled her head to look down the length of his body and see the proud arch of his cock hard up against her. She bit her lip in smiling consideration of a superb manhood and then looked back to his face. She nodded and held onto his shoulders as her legs lifted and wrapped high around his hips.

Their eyes met and held as he pushed slowly into her. He watched every single sensation play across her face as he filled her with himself. She moaned and arched for him, eyes wide and then fluttering closed. He twisted his hips and she bit her lip as she stretched for him. Her back arched when he rolled his pelvis. Her lips parted and she gasped as he twisted the other way and the blunt head of him butted right up against the mouth of her womb. His lips caressed her neck as she gasped and panted under him. She felt so full. She was absolutely brimming with him and it was all too much and not enough at the same time. She was wild and placid. She'd die if he moved and it was torture every second he remained still. Her nails bit into his shoulders and dragged down over his chest slowly as he pulled from her.

He hissed as the pain mixed headily with the pleasure rocketing up his spine from his pulsing cock. She felt so good around him. As hot as hell and soothing as nirvana. His entire body shook, sweat was a glitter on their skins and he panted with barely there control. He was frantically still, trying to be slow so she could adjust to his size. Her hips bucked against his and he groaned like a wounded man and held her hips still with urgent hands as his head dropped to rest against her neck.

"Be still, Lisa-love, I don't want to hurt you." God forbid she be afraid of his cock. He gasped against her skin and his teeth scraped over her as he held her gently like a stallion stilling a mare. She shivered but managed to stay still a few moments more.

"Greg…I need it all. It's not enough. I need you to move." She whimpered against him and shivered more violently. "I need you to take me. Right now."

Finally, gloriously, he began to push back into her. He wrung another cry from her as he pulled from her once more and then moved sinuously into a rhythm that was mind numbingly good for both of them. He looked down at her and smiled one of his rare true smiles as he pushed them both higher with urgent thrusts from his hips. There were very few things that Gregory House truly enjoyed in life and he definitely put fucking Lisa Cuddy straight to the top, bar none. She was fabulous.

All that control that she held onto so tightly in the office was just ripped away. She screamed. She thrashed. She writhed and bucked up against him. As always she gave as good as she got and was, basically, one hell of a lay. He ignored the fact that she would have never have come to him if she hadn't been drugged. For the moment, her hair and her body were loose and wild with him and he was quite content to keep her that way for the time being. He could think about later, later.

He kissed her hard and her fingers tangled in his hair. She moaned against him even as her tongue tangled with his. His hips thumped against hers hard enough to bruise. He usually prided himself on being a gentle lover, subtly stroking and caressing his woman to one mind expanding orgasm after another, but he just couldn't be that way with her. He needed to take her. He had to pin her against the floor and fuck her until they both knew that it was exactly what they needed from each other. His hands and mouth were rough and demanding in a way he had never used them before. His voice was a low growl in her ear as he told her she was his and his body was one powerhouse of lust as he ruthlessly pushed them both higher.

He was still drugged, being a veteran with narcotics he supposed he was better at handling it than she was, plus having a smaller dose, but he still wouldn't be able to stop screwing them both mindless if the entire New Jersey Police department pounded through his front door at that moment. He needed her more than he needed…anything he could think of at that moment.

He was caught unawares as she screamed and came again for him. Her inner muscles clamping hard and wet around him. Milking him for everything he had. He shouted against her neck and panted as he exploded with her shivering into her as she gripped his shoulders. Her nails a sharp bite against his skin and moaned for him. He decided that might just be his favourite sound. He panted, his chest heaving against hers, as he rested on his elbows and rested his forehead against hers. His nose slid against hers and their panting breaths mingled as their mouths were only a whisper apart.

He opened his eyes and tilted his head when he saw her watching him intently. She lifted her hand and trailed her fingers through his hair. A small smile traced her lips and she tapped a finger against his mouth. "Greg, that was…"

He didn't get to hear exactly what it was as a hammering fist fell hard on his door. A deep voice shouted through the thick wood.

"New Jersey Police Department! Open up!"

House let his eyebrows rise and then looked down at the frown on Lisa's face. Nope, she didn't know either.

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Tawny hummed softly to herself as she waited for the test results to come through. She yawned and tapped at the desk with her fingernails. It was late. She looked out of the nearest window and saw the veil of dark that had descended over the city. With a small smile she reached up and pulled off her green lens sunglasses. She didn't need them at night. Tucking them into the V of her shirt collar she resolved to go home once this test was done.

She was aware of him before he spoke. That subtle spiced scent that was purely his. She let another smaller, secret, smile kick her mouth as her eyes fluttered closed and his arms wrapped around her waist, his chin dropping onto her shoulder and his lips moving against her ear as he spoke.

"You're late." His distinctive accent curled through her as his deep baritone washed over her.

"Just one more test." She told him as she moved from the stool she had been sitting upon and turned in his arms to loop hers around his neck. She smiled as she looked him over appreciatively. Michael McQueen, her husband, truly was an impressive man. Taller even than her, he reached about six four, his face had lean angular lines with sharp shaped eyes of flashing gold, Maori tattoos curled down over one cheek and along the line of his jaw revealing his heritage and the source of his accent and long blue black hair tumbled in a luxuriant cascade down his back. It tumbled forward as she reached back and pulled the band that held it back loose. Light from the hallway glinted off the rings on his eyebrow and lining his left ear. It did not show the bar that was pierced through his dextrous tongue.

"You missed dinner." He accused even as her hands spanned the breadth of his shoulders and slipped down over his back, exploring the long lines of his powerful body even though she knew them by heart.

"True." She didn't bother to argue with it.

He growled softly and nipped her neck in admonishment with sharp teeth. She shivered and was distracted by the insistent beeping of the machine over her shoulder. "Who is working the bar?" She asked him by way of distraction as she reached behind herself for the printout of chemical compounds.

"Jeff covered for me so I could and find my errant, misbehaving, wife." He told her and snatched the paper from her hands. "There, you've done your test, let's go."

She arched and snatched the paper back with a glare. "I need the results." She scanned the paper with increasing difficulty as Michael's hands roamed over her body, it was a game and she smiled as she did her best to ignore him. His warm fingers traced under the hem of her shirt and across the warm skin of her toned belly. Her eyes widened as she finally understood what she was reading.

"Oh." She said and Mike stilled at the tone of her voice.

"What?"

"Blood test shows that…I must call House." She reached for her phone and gave a growl of annoyance when it was snatched out of her reach by Michael. He deliberately stuffed it into the tight pocket of his jeans. It really was a constant amazement to her how he managed to fit his cell phone, his wallet and his dick in trousers that tight, but he managed it nevertheless.

"You must do nothing." He told her and steered her towards the door. "You can call him tomorrow with whatever it is."

"How insensitive, this could mean a patient's life or death." She shoved him away from her in the corridor and he took only a step to rebalance himself before looping an arm around her waist again.

"If it was you would have cold cocked me in the jaw and taken the phone from me anyway. It can wait but I can't."

Her green eyes flashed as she looked him over in the quiet hallway. A blood red brow arched with interest. "Really?"

He pushed her into the elevator and then further up against the wall, his arms bracing against the metal on either side of her head and locking her in the cage of his arms. Their eyes met and heat flared between them. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he knew better than to start something here. If he did, neither of them was going to stop.

"Hotel?" He offered.

She bit her full lower lip between white teeth. "Lorcain?"

"At Kyle's house." Mike rumbled against the sensitive skin of her throat as he dipped his head there and inhaled her scent. Her hand splayed against the cobbled muscles of his belly rippling under his black shirt and she smiled up at him and nodded slowly.

"Hotel."

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House opened his door a crack and frowned at the police officers on the other side. "Can I help you?" He said slowly and dangerously. He had not wanted to have been interrupted from what he had been in the middle of. These boys in blue were playing with fire.

The officer on the other side cleared his throat and let his gaze flick over House from top to toe. They had been called out to a domestic disturbance and this guy definitely looked like he had been in a fight. There was a bite mark on his lower lip, his neck and collar bone. Scratches scored over his chest and right down over his belly to disappear under the band of his Levis, a couple of them even had tiny beads of blood forming on his skin.

"Are you alright, sir?" He asked a little warily. "We were called here because someone heard fighting in your apartment."

House's eyebrows rose. Fighting? "Must have been the TV." He said automatically and deliberately looked the officer in the eye, daring him to disagree.

"The TV bit you?" The younger, greener, officer asked disbelievingly and House scowled at him.

A look from the veteran had the young guy shutting up. He turned back to House. "Do you mind if we come in, sir? Just to make sure everything's alright."

"Yes. I do mind." House leant against the door, he had hopped here while pulling on his jeans and couldn't seem to remember where he had flung his cane in a fit of passion.

The officer's jaw hardened. "There were reports of a woman screaming, sir, are you sure it was the TV?"

"Oh, for God's sake." A third voice joined the conversation and the door was yanked wider. All three men looked over Lisa Cuddy, dressed only in House's shirt, appreciatively. "I was screaming, okay?" She demanded of the officer and he stammered slightly as she situated herself under House's arm to stop him from falling flat on his face.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" The policeman finally managed to choke out upon seeing the various stubble burns and, yes, those were bite marks too.

"Aside from having my post coital bliss interrupted I'm fine." Lisa snapped and planted a hand on her hip. Causing the shirt to ride up a little higher on her legs and gape a little wider at the chest. House glared as the officers' eyes flickered there and then hurriedly back to her face.

"Post coital…right." The officer pressed his lips together as a flush stained his cheeks. "Well, um, right…" They hadn't really covered this in basic training.

"We promise to try and be quieter next time." Lisa said cheerfully and waved at them. "Though it is nice to know that police response time is so quick in this neighbourhood we'll be saying goodnight now. Buh-bye." She slammed the door shut on their surprised faces and whirled on House with a dangerous look in her eyes. "Not one damn word." She warned him and slipped out from under his shoulder to go and find something more to wear. Now that she was feeling a little, ahem, calmer, it was beginning to sink in exactly how undressed she had been when she had arrived here.

She couldn't believe they'd just…she glared over her shoulder at him just as he opened his mouth to speak. Her warning gaze stopped him.

"I mean it, not one word." She snapped. Panic flared under her skin and she yanked her coat back on over his shirt.

What had she done?

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

**Weeee!!! Update! **

**Though not a long one I'm afraid. Je suis still knackered. **

**Uuumm…nothing more to report…except I'm going to an S&M party…at least I think that's what she said on the phone. I'll need to dig out that leash from somewhere. **

**Ah well, it'll give me something to do. **

**Read and review!!!**

**Chapter 9: Rude Wake Up Call**

House woke up alone.

This was not something he appreciated, nor was it something he liked. He woke up alone every other day of the week and it rarely bothered him but today it did.

Because he had been decidedly _not_ alone last night.

He scowled at the empty side of the bed accusingly. She had left some time after four, possibly closer to five. He couldn't have been sure as he was fairly confidant that multiple hard core screwing sessions had done a rather impressive job of liquefying his cognitive abilities. She had slept fitfully at his side, when she had managed to sleep. Even in her dreams she had been determined that she would not be a slave to the drug in her system…but then she woke up and saw him right there beside her and all her good intentions had gone the way of the dodo.

Not that he was complaining. He thought it was a good thing that she was learning to relax a little and she had definitely been relaxed…five or six times over. He grinned at that. He still had it. He chose to ignore the fact that he was on the same thing that she was, he was on a much lower dose after all.

He was still a fox.

He grimaced when he rolled to the side of the bed. His hand found his leg as a matter of habit. He was a fox alright, but a lame one. Not that dearest Cuddles had minded on bit as she had let her own hands travel exactly the same path that House's own hands were moving now. She had been en route to more interesting destinations though. Destinations that House had no intention of revisiting himself when there was a perfectly good drug addled nymphomaniac at work.

Speaking of work and certain delectable administrators that were ripe for blackmailing at this particular moment in time…he had better get ready if he was going to be in on time.

Well, time according to the Greg House book of medicine.

House limped from his bed and hobbled to the shower. He catalogued every scrape of her teeth and scratch from her nails that she had inflicted on him last night as the hot water from the shower splattered down over them. He grimaced as stretching for the shower gel pulled on one particularly deep set of scores. Jeez, had she been keeping tally of orgasms back there? House stepped from his shower and twisted a little awkwardly to look in the mirror at his flayed back.

Actually, it looked worse than it felt. Because it looked like hell.

House raised one eyebrow. Ah well, no pain no gain and he put last night fully into the gain category. He limped from the bathroom and used the hallway wall as support as he still couldn't remember where his cane had gotten to. He was pretty sure he had seen it peeking over the top of the bookcase. He got the living room and nearly leaped out of his skin.

"Jesus!" He staggered back against the wall as Tawny turned to look at him…and _look_ she did. "What the hell are you doing here?!" He demanded as he snagged a nearby Swedish medical journal about revolutionary spinal surgeries and covered himself with it. He had forgone the towel as he had been under the optimistic impression that he might be left alone in his own apartment.

"Well, House, I would never have guessed that you were as…long as you are tall." Tawny finished as politely as she could and dragged her gaze North of the equator. The man was her boss after all. "And as for what I'm doing here, I found something interesting about the whisky that I thought you should know as soon as possible." Her red lens covered eyes met his from behind the gold and ruby sunglasses she wore today. "I did knock." She defended herself as she strode to the couch, picked up his discarded jeans from last night between thumb and forefinger and then tossed them to him. "I made coffee." She supplied cheerfully and then clicked to the kitchen on the metal heels of her knee high pointed boots.

House wriggled into his jeans and kept scowling in her direction until he had to drag his attention away to find his cane. "The door was locked." He pointed out as he rummaged under the couch, nope, not there.

"Not in any serious way." Tawny called back from the kitchen. "And your cane is hooked over the coat rack by the door."

House scowled in the general direction of the kitchen and then limped to retrieve the cane that was indeed in the coat rack. He turned around and nearly scalded himself on the coffee that Tawny was holding out to him. He took it with muttered thanks and then drank half of it down in one tongue roasting gulp. She was dressed rather effeminately today, he noted. A red corset under a see through wrap around high collared shirt of a glittering gold material, over a blood red swishing skirt that reached her knees. Mesh fine fishnets were visible in teasing flashes whenever she chose to walk around on the towering height of those red suede and gold laced boots.

"Dressed to impress." He noted with a mockingly raised brow.

"Judging by the state of your wardrobe, I thought that one of us should at least look presentable." She shrugged it off and returned to the kitchen for her own cup of coffee.

"But this is the first time you've worn a skirt in my presence. You never wear a skirt because you're a practical woman and skirts aren't very practical." He tilted his head to one side and sipped from his coffee again as he continued to think aloud. Tawny stalked to the doorway of the kitchen and hitched her hip against the frame to lean casually there as he continued to reason out her mode of dress today. "Change of dress, means a change of mood…what's bugging you?"

Tawny shrugged with a small smile. "Absolutely nothing."

"Liar." He accused her.

She nodded. "Everybody lies. That's what you say. Could it be something as simple as the fact that I feel like a woman this morning to is decided to dress like one?"

House shrugged and pushed past her into the kitchen to find something to eat. He didn't hold out much hope, but there it was, he was an optimist. "It could be, but that's not it."

Tawny smirked. "How right you are, Dr House. I've got a meeting with Lorcain's principal this morning. He's done something embarrassing apparently."

House was momentarily stumped. "You're wearing a skirt for your son's principal's sake?"

"Lorcain's been through three schools in the past three months, his principal is a man. I'm determined to keep him in this school, even if it means flashing a little leg and cleavage."

House's eyes dropped rather predictably at what he took to be an invitation to look and he sighed. "Tawny, I think your definition of 'a little', needs tweaking."

Tawny smirked.

"Well, I'd better get dressed." House said brightly and plonked his now empty cup into the sideboard by the sink. He strode past Tawny and headed for his bedroom.

"Why? You're not due into work for another hour at least." Tawny called to his back and raised an eyebrow only slightly at the deep scratches running the length of her boss's spine. It looked like she was a little late with her important information.

"Three schools in three months. Your kid sounds interesting." House's voice was muffled a little from the distance between them and the fact that he was yanking a tee shirt over his head at the time.

"He's a European kid in an American world." Tawny quoted Lorcain dryly and scuffed her shoe against the hardwood floors idly as she waited for House to hurry up and get dressed. She jingled her car keys over her knuckles and began to toy with them as she waited.

"So, what was so important that you had to break into my apartment to tell me?" House demanded as he limped along the corridor, fully dressed and ready for another day of convincing Cuddy into his bed.

"Oh, when you do sleep with Cuddy, you'll have to use contraception of some kind. The whisky negates the Pill." Tawny told him casually and then headed for the door, throwing it open and spilling golden morning sunshine over House's gaping mouth. She smirked to herself and pipped the alarm on her Jaguar off with her keys. She strode towards the car and wondered if he'd snap out of his stupor soon enough to actually get into the vehicle with her. The engine roared as she twisted her keys in the ignition. She shifted into gear and her smirk broadened to a feline grin as the door was yanked open on the passenger side and house flopped into the cream leather seat beside her.

"You are a cruel, cruel woman, you know that?" He jabbed at her and rearranged himself so that he wouldn't do himself any damage with his cane if she decided to stop quickly. "You knew she was here last night, didn't you?"

"Men don't wash coffee cups unless they have to and the scratches down your back, plus the bite on your shoulder were rather indicative of a night of passion." She told him rather patronisingly and nosed the car out into the early morning traffic.

"What would you know about night's of passion?" He grumped to her and Tawny chuckled wryly. She reached up and pulled aside the collar of her shirt to reveal the purpling bruise of a bite on the swell of her cleavage.

"Plenty." She told him succinctly and accelerated with a roar from the engine before house could even formulate a response.

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Tawny's heels clicked with an echoing staccato beat along the linoleum floor of West Princeton High. One of the more prestigious high schools in the New Jersey. The walls were painted a charming, if offensive, shade of butter yellow and covered with posters of the championship football team in action. House was abruptly transported back to his own high school days and grinned at the memory. The classes sure had been boring but he had found other ways to make up for it.

Judging by the state of a certain McQueen, Lorcain had done exactly the same thing.

Tawny could only stare at her son as she stalked over to him and stared down at the faux feathered stuffed monstrosity that was currently the only thing covering his lithe sixteen year old body. He was completely naked with only the stuffed cartoonish head of some kind of bird affording him any modesty.

"What," Tawny gritted from between clenched teeth and pointing an imperial finger at the bird head, "is _that?"_

"It's a cock." Lorcain supplied on a grin looked down at the head and snatched it as if to lift it.

"Don't move it! It's probably the only thing keeping you from being arrested." Tawny snapped and crossed her arms over her chest and glaring down at her son. "Start explaining."

"A practical joke that went…awry." Lorcain said in a measured tones and then waved to House over his mother's shoulder. "Hi, Dr House. No Cameron today?"

A low growl emanated from Tawny and Lorcain flinched before hurriedly going on to explain. "Mum, seriously, it wasn't my fault. I was serving detention, like the good boy you told me to be, and somebody stole my clothes. I had no choice but to cover my, ahem, modesty the only way I knew how while searching for said garments and then the principal saw me and got the wrong end of the stick."

Tawny blinked rapidly behind the ruby lenses of her glasses and reached up to grip the bridge of her nose from under the golden frames. "The wrong end of the stick…" She muttered and Lorcain arched a brow.

"Okay, so that was a bad choice of words, but I'm telling you the truth." Lorcain said calmly.

"Like the time the aliens ate all the madelines that I made for breakfast and covered you in crumbs to frame you for it?" Tawny asked dryly.

"I was seven, get over it." Lorcain mimicked his mother's pose of folding her arms over his chest and glaring up at her.

The principal chose that moment to open the door and shuffle out into the hallway. He blinked rapidly up at Tawny as she towered over him.

"Miss McQueen?"

"Mrs and yes." Tawny sighed and took the principal's hand in her own.

"Are you the boy's father?" The principal, a man by the name of Munn looked over House assumingly. Tawny glared at him.

"Do I look like a fool to you? This man is my employer, I'm giving him a lift to work. What exactly are you accusing my son of doing?"

House's brows rose, impressed despite himself. She had put the man on the defensive in just about every way someone can be in three sentences. He smirked and removed his jacket handing it to Lorcain. The boy looked down at it with an arched brow.

"Dude, what am I supposed to do with this?"

"You're part Scottish, make like a kilt." House instructed him coolly and took the seat beside him.

"Perhaps we should move into my office, Mrs McQueen. I do not think this is a suitable arena for this discussion." Munn tried to usher a woman that outstripped him by nearly a foot of statuesque height, into his office with one small hovering hand behind her back.

"But it is suitable to leave my son out in the hallway with nothing but a stuffed animal head to wear?" Tawny reached up and tilted her glasses down her nose a fraction to glare at the man with flashing emerald eyes. "Oh yes, Mr Munn, we will be discussing this out with the earshot of my son, since I don't believe in expanding his vocabulary of curse words as it is quite extensive already." Her voice was low and dangerous and she stalked into the office with a swish of her skirt. Munn steeled himself a little and then followed her in, shutting the door behind them both.

House looked down at Lorcain, who had tied House's jacket around his skinny waist and was fussing with his hair.

"So…" House toyed with his cane a little and looked down at Lorcain. A little more comfortable now that the boy wasn't entirely naked.

"So." Lorcain said back, turning to peer up at House.

"Your mom's a little scary."

Lorcain shrugged. "Never noticed."

House arched a brow at him. "She's a tiger with everyone else but she can't stay mad at me."

"You're her baby." House said almost to himself.

"And you're her boss…you met my dad?"

House shook his head. "Heard a many great things about him, though. All of them vaguely life threatening." He was silent a moment as Lorcain grinned at that. "So, why were you really stripped of your clothes?" Lorcain stared at him a moment. "Your friends would have given them back when you got in trouble. Which means it wasn't your friends that took them, it was someone who wanted you to be in trouble." House thumped his cane against the floor as he thought out his reasoning. "I'm guessing…a girl."

Lorcain looked away for a moment and scrubbed at his arm. "Venus Lawmen."

"Pretty?"

"Beautiful. Tall, about an inch shorter than me, big, huge silver eyes and caramel coloured hair, not skinny though. The woman's got curves." Lorcain had leant his head back and was staring at the ceiling as he extolled the virtues of the goddess-like girl.

"Let me guess, she's got a boyfriend."

"School football team's quarterback. Apparently, he's an important guy." Lorcain shrugged. "Guy's a grade one bastard. Venus is deaf, can't hear a thing so he stands there, right next to her, I mean, and like slags her off to all his cronies. It's fucking disgusting." Lorcain fidgeted with the chicken head on his lap.

"What did you do to him?" House had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Punched him in the face."

"Ah."

"Guy's vain. I mean, he checks his reflection in anything remotely shiny. I could have hit him in the balls, but I figured if I was going to hurt him then I should really hurt him, you know."

House smirked. "Break his nose?"

"Crushed it. Knocked him right out too."

House frowned as something occurred to him. "How did you get away with this?"

"We happened to be on the football field at the time. I convinced the coach that I just didn't know my own strength." Lorcain shrugged. "Wasn't hard. I'm good at football. Back in Scotland or France I'd have been arrested on the spot for assault. Over here, if you can throw a ball or you come from money…you're untouchable."

"Exploiting the system…clever."

"Mum doesn't really agree."

"I'm not your mother."

"Duh, she's prettier than you."

House smirked. "So, you get the girl?"

Lorcain grinned. "I'm working on it."

"Dissappointing, Cain, I'd have expected something a little better from your mother's son."

"So, how's Dr Cuddy?" Lorcain folded his arms over his chest and arched a brow at the older man.

House glowered. "Your mom's not nearly as funny as she thinks she is."

"Of course she is." Tawny answered as she swept out of the office with a rather stunned looking Principal Munn trailing in her wake. "On your feet, we're leaving."

"We are?" Both House and Lorcain chimed in unison.

"Yes. As of immediately, Lorcain will be serving out his punishment with me."

"I will?" Lorcain looked only slightly less than horrified.

"He will?" House frowned at Munn.

"Yes, it's the only way he can stay at West P. High." Tawny gritted out the information in a way that suggested she wasn't any more pleased about this than her boss or her son. "Come along, boys. I'll be seeing you Mr Munn." Tawny shot over her shoulder as she took hold of Lorcain by one ear and pulled him a long behind her with barely a wince from the boy. They obviously both had a lot of practice at walking around this way.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow and ow." Lorcain kept up his litany all the way along the corridor right until the rounded the corner out of sight of Munn's office. Tawny released him immediately. She snatched the feathered head from Lorcain's hand, leaving him more able to hitch his shirt/kilt a little higher. She waved it threateningly at Lorcain.

"This is your last chance. You fuck this up and I will personally drive you to the nearest military installation and throw you on the boat myself." She warned him.

Lorcain ducked his head slightly. "Yes, mum."

Tawny straightened and the anger cleared from her features as quickly as it had come. "And, for future reference, tell me if your principal's gay. I could have sent your father." Tawny rested her hand on Lorcain's shoulder and steered him out towards the car.

Lorcain and House grinned at each other. "Yes, mum." He said.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"Good morning, Dr Cuddy! You're latest assistant has arrived!" House entered her office with a flourish. Trailing Lorcain (who had been dressed in a rather cute set of paediatrics scrubs, complete with cavorting teddy bears, a gift from Tawny) behind him with as much enthusiasm as the boy could muster. Which increased considerably when he saw exactly what Dr Cuddy looked like.

"Dude, you told me she was an administrator-type." He slapped House's arm and then grinned with all the McQueen charm at the frowning Cuddy.

"Is he even out of school?" Cuddy asked as she rounded the desk. Faltering slightly when both House_ and_ Lorcain looked her up and down with male appreciation.

"He is for this week. And she is." House said, aiming the last part at Lorcain.

Lorcain extended his hand and Cuddy took it, still not entirely sure as to what was going on. She had sort of hoped that House might have hit his head and not remembered last night at all, or, alternatively, that he might just avoid her for the rest of his career. It looked like neither wish was going to come true any time soon.

"I'm Lorcain McQueen, my mum works for Dr House. All the ladies call me Cain." He smiled at her in what could only be described as a flirtatious manner.

"As in 'Cain and Abel'?" Cuddy asked, removing her hand rather quickly from the teenager's grasp. She was in no condition to be fighting off any advances from the male of the species, never mind illegal ones.

"I assure you, Dr Cuddy, I am _very '_able'." Lorcain folded his hands behind his back and grinned down at the smaller woman.

House growled. "Venus."

Lorcain straightened immediately. "Dirty fighter."

"Of course, now go and do office-type things. That's what you're here for." House ushered the boy out of Cuddy's office and then locked the door behind him. Lorcain stuck his tongue out at House through the glass doors until House snapped the blinds shut.

Cuddy took in the action with a nervous trace of her tongue over her lips. "What are you doing?"

"Shutting the blinds. I want to talk to you." House told her and turned around to see her backing away from him like a frightened rabbit. "Now, you want space between us?"

She glared at him. "If this is about last night then, I want you to know that, it won't…"

House was suddenly in front of her and her words died in her throat. "Won't be the last night between us." He told her as he backed her right up against the desk and rested both palms on the smooth wood on either side of her hips. Their faces were barely an inch apart and Cuddy swallowed hard as the scent of him wrapped around her senses. He shut his eyes briefly as he inhaled deeply, his head dipped to her throat and his lips whispered over her skin in a barely there caress. Cuddy did her best to stifle her moan but she couldn't stop the way she arched unconsciously towards him. Her chest brushed his through the various layers of their clothing but the contact still felt red hot.

House cleared his throat and pulled away slightly. Leaning heavily on his cane once more. He stared down at her as her eyes fluttered open once more, dazed and glassy, she cleared her throat and blushed a fiery hue over her cheeks as she straightened and tried to put a professional distance between them once more. Mentally, at least, if not physically.

"What did you want to talk about?" She stammered, her voice husky despite herself. She cleared her throat again.

"You need to buy condoms." His gaze raked over her in a blazing force of possession that had her shivering as her body heated under his eyes.

"What?"

He stepped closer again and touched her hip lightly with his fingers as if he were compelled to do so. As if he couldn't help but touch her. His fingers slid under the hem of her jacket and over her skin. It was feverishly hot to his touch and the muscles over her back tightened as he splayed his palm over them. He nudged her closer, one arm wrapped around her. Her chest heaved against his as she stumbled against him. Not wanting to be this close but doing nothing to move away from him. She couldn't. Her eyes were still dazed, her glossy lips parted as if ready for a kiss that he burned to press to her and her eyes focused on his mouth instead of meeting his own look to her.

"Lots of them." He growled almost against her lips.

"Why?"

"Because I want you as badly as you want me and we've got a lot of time to make up for." He explained to her, his mouth lowering against the hammering pulse in the hollow of her throat. Her breath caught at the contact and her head fell back as her hands rose and gripped his shoulders. The fabric of his jacket scraped against her manicured nails punctuated by her gasp when his rough jaw rasped over her sensitive skin.

Heat cocooned them in a thick lust filled cloud. They were blinded by it even as they breathed it in. It filled their heads and their blood. Making them feel heavy and languid. Boneless and in need of just sinking down onto the carpet and into each other.

"I'm on the pill." She told him on a moan, her brain several seconds behind the rest of the world. Her head dipped to his and their mouths met in steaming contact. She groaned as if she was starving and had finally been given food. Her arms wrapped up and around his neck, her fingers curled through his hair at the nape of his neck. He growled as his tongue boldly slid over hers. He took her mouth as if it was his to take and dropped his cane in favour of wrapping both arms around her body and hauling her as close as he could get her.

"Doesn't matter." He spoke between nipping kisses down her throat. Her jacket parted under his hands and he pushed it back to reveal the blood red bra that cupped her flesh in the way that he burned to. He stroked her with one hand and wrapped his tongue around a spiked nipple. She arched her back, groaning throatily as her leg slid up the outside of his. She leant back against her desk and a few stitches in her skirt buckled as he spread her legs and stepped between them.

She didn't care.

What was she thinking? Of course she cared!

"Greg…we can't." She half heartedly tried to push him away. He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her palm before lacing his fingers through hers and sliding his other hand under the hem of her skirt, pushing it up ruthlessly, his palm velvet rough against the outside of her thigh.

"Sure we can, Lisa-love, the door's locked." He grinned and kissed her quickly once more. He looked at her again as she digested that last piece of information.

At that moment a loud and suddenly racking cough issued from the other side of the blinkered doors to her office.

"My, my, that's quite a cough you have there, boy." Burndyke's loathingly pitched voice wheedled through the door. Cuddy froze, her hand tightening in Greg's in sheer stupefaction. It wasn't as if she had ever been in this situations before.

"Aye, it is." Lorcain wheezed in an exaggerated manner. Something hit the doors with a rattling impact. "Gosh look at that, I dropped…the bin."

"Is that glass cracked?" Burndyke asked.

By this point Greg had looked over his shoulder to glare at a man he couldn't see, never mind dismember, not matter how much he might want to.

"It appears to be." Lorcain agreed and there was a shuffling noise behind the door as somebody moved. "Listen, Mister, I dunno who you are by Dr Cuddy doesn't want to be disturbed. Besides, the door's locked." Lorcain gave a verbal shrug and cuddy sighed in relief, her head dropping onto Greg's shoulder in relief.

"That's alright, boy, I have a key."

Cuddy's head snapped up again and she stifled a small scream in her throat before it could issue. She shoved Greg away and began to frantically refasten her jacket. He didn't need to do much except for stoop and pick up his cane.

A key jangled in the lock.

God, why couldn't she have worn the loose jacket today?

The fitted black jacket she had chosen to wear was only half buttoned up, her skirt was only a shade away from indecent and her hair looked like she'd had her morning coffee break in a wind tunnel.

All that, and over the protests of Lorcain, Burndyke was still opening the door. She fought the urge to swear long and fluently as the door swung inwards.

Today was going to be another bad day.

She could just tell.


	10. Chapter 10

SMUUUUUUUUTTTTT!!!!!!!

Just a wee warning for y'all. In case anyone OD'd on the stooopid pills this morning or they've wandered into the wrong author's stuff.

Not sure how I feel about this chapter but I figured I might as well post the sucker anyway.

Read and review.

**Chapter 10: Taking Care of It**

House took one look at Cuddy and realised that she would never forgive him if Burndyke saw her like this. He ground his teeth and pushed away from her desk, striding across the room in a ground eating if uneven gait and yanking the door open with a crack of wood. It wasn't beneath his notice that he had just shattered part of the frame with the lock but he just chose not to acknowledge it. He strode right out and barrelled deliberately into Burndyke. The smaller man gave a strangled yelp as House's much larger body crashed into his and sent him sprawling to the floor. He arched a brow at Burndyke and then deliberately looked to the keys in his hands. He bent and snatched them from him in one fluid motion.

"Now, I'm no expert, but you shouldn't have these." House waggled the keys at him with a jingle that sounded in tune with his patronising tone and then swiftly pocketed them. One man's loss and all that. Cuddy appeared in the doorway behind him, having managed to cover herself once more (House suppressed a pang of disappointment at the development) and looked down at Burndyke with all of her frustration of the last few days lancing into the man on the floor in a laser like glare.

"Mr Burndyke, you're crossing the line." She informed him coldly and House could barely believe that the cold voice that had just spoken had come from her mouth. The mouth that had been so hot and soft under his mere moments before. "And I'm too busy to deal with you just now." She informed him and then looked to House. "You as well, both of you just…go away." She said and then turned back to her office, retreating inside and slamming the door shut on both of them. House turned, fully intending to go back inside, but stopped as a slim body insinuated itself between him and his destination. House blinked down at Lorcain with vague surprise.

"Kid, you wanna move?" It wasn't a question but Lorcain shook his head anyway and folded his sinewy arms over his chest.

"Nope. You heard the lady, hop it." He jerked his chin towards the elevators. House frowned and stilled slightly when Lorcain looked deliberately beyond him and to the floor, where Burndyke presumably still sprawled.

His jaw set in a hard line, every instinct he had screaming at him to go back in there and take what was rightfully his, damnit. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his jaw to try and rub away the frustration. He knew it was the drugs in his system…but he also knew it wasn't _just_ the drugs that had his fists itching to flatten the door in front of him. "Fine." He snapped and then stabbed Burndyke in the shoulder with his cane as he passed him by. "And, Lorcain?"

"Yeah, boss?" Lorcain asked, as congenially as ever.

"Get this trash out of here." He gestured negligently to Burndyke who glared at him like a pissed of mouse to a cat. House then turned and walked away before he did something really stupid…like go back into her office anyway.

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Tawny whistled jauntily to herself as she meandered along the corridor back towards Diagnostics. She was tired, she had just finished a five hour surgery and the intensive thought process behind such a procedure always dragged on her senses after a while, but she loved it, and the kid had pulled through. Well, they were cautiously optimistic at least. Tawny held a plastic box from the deli down the street in her hand and ate the delizioso sandwich with gusto with delicate fingers. She looked a world away from the coiffed and expensively adorned woman that morning. Her hair was tied back in a messy knot at her nape, her pale blue scrubs were rumpled from long hours of wear and she had tied the long sleeved shirt around her waist to reveal a black tank top underneath. Mirror lens aviator sunglasses afforded her some anonymity but not much, world travelled fast in PPTH and the good French lady doctor was already the main buzz for gossip. She didn't care though. House and Cuddy, their relationship and the speculation thereupon was still number one grinding material for the rumour mill.

"Hey, mum!"

Tawny whirled gracefully on one heel and lapped mayonnaise from her tapered fingers and arched a questioning brow at her son. Lorcain jogged over to her, still managing to look rather dashing in his teddy bear scrubs and skidded to a halt in front of his mother. Tawny's brow lowered in a concerned frown as she picked up on her son's anxiety.

"What is it?" She demanded in short order and Lorcain was already pulling her back towards the elevators he had just exited from.

"It's Dr Cuddy, she doesn't look too good."

Tawny threw her sandwich in the nearest trash can and followed her son without further comment. Taking the stairs when the elevators weren't fast enough, the two McQueens strode across the lobby with a purpose that wasn't missed. Nurses gaped after Tawny as she passed by but she succinctly ignored them as she threw open the blinkered doors to her superior's office.

"Where?" She demanded of her son.

"Behind the desk." Lorcain answered and stayed by the door. "I'll be just here, shout if you need anything."

Tawny nodded and skirted the massive mahogany desk, dropping to a crouch next to Cuddy, who half lay curled against her desk, her eyes closed tightly and one arm folded low over her stomach. Tawny reached up and laid the back of her hand against the smaller woman's cheek.

"Cuddy?" She spoke softly.

Cuddy flinched away, her skin feverish and blinked rapidly with dazed eyes at Tawny. She swallowed hard and seemed to rally herself a little. "Dr McQueen, I didn't hear you come in…what time is it?"

"A little after four." Tawny murmured and looked over the top of the desk, gesturing for Lorcain to come to her. She gave him instructions to get a sedative and the biggest soda he could find. Then she turned her attention back to Cuddy. "Are you in any pain?"

"Cramp." Cuddy admitted on a wince, but then pushed through it and tried to rise to her feet. It was ridiculously easy for Tawny to keep her exactly where she was with on hand on her shoulder. "It's not bad, I have a board meeting to go to."

Tawny snorted to convey exactly what she thought of that idea and then took the syringe and soda from Lorcain as he shuffled back into the room. "You can't even stand under your own power, you're going nowhere except to a bed." Tawny coolly informed her boss shoved the paper cup of soda into her trembling hand. "Drink." She caught the cup as Cuddy's fingers slipped over the cool wet plastic and Tawny held it for her. "Drink it, you're dehydrated, that's why you can't focus on anything."

Cuddy scowled at her, on the verge of refusing.

Tawny glowered. "You're as bad as House."

Cuddy took a drink.

"Go and find House." She told Lorcain quietly and he nodded hurriedly before slipping from the room again.

Tawny didn't relent until Cuddy had drained at least half of the soda. She set the cup aside and rolled up the dean's sleeve of her black fitted jacket with quick efficient movements. She readied the syringe and tapped Cuddy's arm with her fingers to raise the vein.

"What's that?" Cuddy's voice was hoarse, but she sounded better than she had a few moments ago.

"A little Valium. You're pulse is through the roof." Tawny explained with the bare minimum of words and injected the solution into Cuddy before she had a chance to protest. Cuddy watched the entire proceedings with a kind of numb detachment. She was in a considerable amount of pain from the way her womb seemed to be trying to claw its way out of torso but she had even grown used to that. Mostly she was just tired and…fuzzy. Everything seemed to be bleeding into everything else a little bit.

"Cuddy." Tawny snapped her fingers in front of Cuddy's face. "Cuddy!" Tawny held up one finger and moved it throughout Cuddy's field of vision. Cuddy followed the movement with her eyes, though a little sluggishly. "Tell me what happened." Tawny encouraged her and Cuddy straightened a little as she tried to sort her scattered thoughts into some semblance of order.

"Wasn't feeling too hot, went to get up and go to the door to…the clinic." It was an effort to remember. She had actually been intent on going to House, but she didn't feel the need to enlighten Tawny to that little factoid. "Felt dizzy when I stood up, went to sit down and…missed the chair I think. Too tired to get up again." Cuddy shut her eyes and tilted to the side a little, Tawny held her upright.

"Did you hit your head?" She was already threading her fingers carefully through dark hair to check for bumps or abrasions.

"No." Tawny finished checking anyway and looked up as the door opened to admit one lanky, and worried looking, diagnostician. He was covering it well, but his heart was obviously somewhere about his trachea instead of its usual spot.

"What happened?" He demanded and dropped to crouch behind the desk with the two women. Tawny gave him the abridged version of events.

"What do you want to do?" Tawny asked when she had finished bringing House up to speed.

"We should get her upstairs, this is more dangerous than I thought. I want to run a blood panel, among other things." House pressed two fingers to Cuddy's throat and she glared at him.

"Right here, you know."

"Shush, you're just a patient now." House said, though he meant it to be teasing, the words had a vaguely choked quality to them.

"Later, I have a board meeting to get to." Cuddy waved them away and tried to stand on her own…and promptly fell right against House's shoulder. Tawny rolled her eyes, and people said she was stubborn. Cuddy levered herself up using House's shoulder for balance and then leant heavily against the desk. The world was still spinning and doing that funky Technicolor swirl gig, but hey, at least she was upright now. Tawny suddenly appeared in her vision.

"You need to get to a bed and get some rest. An IV and a whole lab of tests done." She informed her and Cuddy managed to glare at her in a slightly doped up way and fold her arms over her chest.

"I have to work. Somebody's got to cover this jackass's mistakes up." She jerked a belligerent thumb in House's general direction and he frowned at her. "You can't force me to be a patient, not in my own damn hospital."

Tawny repressed a growl. "You're _worse_ than House." She stated emphatically and ground her teeth, not really believing she was about to suggest what she was thinking about suggesting. "If someone goes to the board meeting to cover for you, will you let House treat you?"

Cuddy managed a dilated frown. There was something wrong with that…she just couldn't put her finger on what it was though. She shook her head slowly and the swirling got a little more pronounced. Wow, this Valium was good stuff. "You're not a member of the board though…" She began and couldn't for the life of her think what the rest of the sentence was.

Tawny took that as a 'yes'.

"It's alright, I'll be acting in your stead. We'll sort the paperwork later." Tawny said dismissively and began to rummage through Cuddy's desk, snatching up folders and slapping them into a pile. Cuddy managed to point her in the right direction and Tawny gathered everything together in the crook of one tanned arm.

"Get her in a bed and get those tests done." She ordered House and House frowned at her. He had been sort of caught up in the whirlwind that was Tawny McQueen taking over with easy efficiency.

"Yes, massa McQueen." He said sarcastically, just to prove to himself that he still could. One look at Cuddy had all flippant thoughts drying up. She looked like hell.

"Just do it, Lorcain will help you." She said and her son nodded. Then she swept from the room, presumably to do board-like things with the other members. He turned back to Cuddy and looked her over with a roving gaze. She stiffened under the look and glared at him.

"Forget it, I'm not going to be your patient."

He stepped closer to her and loomed over her. His presence filling her scattered senses. He looked down at her with a tight smile.

"What makes you think you have a choice?"

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"Remind me why we're compromising again?" House asked her as he supported her into her house. A bag filled with medical supplies ungainly and unbalancing over his shoulders.

"Because I'm the light of your life and you can't resist me." She breathed, still a little doped and leaning heavily on him. She had point blank refused to become a patient, the events of the last few days giving her a stellar reason to not want to be trapped in a hospital full of prying eyes with a man that she was having trouble resisting, treating her.

"Oh, of course, I forgot." House muttered and his jaw tightened in discomfort as she staggered slightly and put more pressure on his already overworked leg. "Bed." He told her and tried to shimmy her that way down the hallway.

"Ah, and here's the reason you agreed." She chuckled dryly and he managed a smile for her.

"Huh, even I'm not that depraved. For, while drug use makes me even more irresistible, I don't think it has the same mojo for you." He told her and steered her to the bed. She sat heavily down where he set her. He lowered the bag to the floor and by the time he turned back to her she had flopped onto her side and was staring with unfocused eyes in the general direction of the ceiling.

"Wow, Valium's good stuff." She muttered and House fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of all the times for her to start experimenting.

"You know, most people do all their drug taking in college, you're about two decades behind." He informed her as he pulled her into a sitting position and began to unbutton her jacket.

"Most people don't get turned into drug induced nymphomaniacs either, but here we are." She looked with a vague kind of interest as he pulled her jacket away and tossed it on the floor. "Donna Karin by the way!" She pouted as her shoes suffered a similar fate.

"I'm sure she won't mind." House muttered as he wriggled her out of her skirt. She must really be out of it if she hadn't realised that he was undressing her yet.

Her fingers pushed his own jacket off his shoulders.

Perhaps not so much out of it as getting into it, then.

"Cuddy…" He began in a low warning tone.

"What happened to 'Lisa-love'?" She asked on a smirk and his tee shirt joined the jacket. "I liked that." She confided softly and stroked her fingers over his bared skin. He was naked to the waist just now but he was still trying to focus on getting an IV hooked up for her. She was still dehydrated and that wasn't helping the drugs in her system that were still obviously simmering just beneath the calming cap of the Valium. However, focusing was becoming increasingly difficult as the pheromones in _his_ system decided to rear their ugly microscopic heads and start gallivanting about in a gleeful joyride of his libido. He was _very _aware of the fact that she was sitting right there in front of him in nothing but her sky blue underwear.

"I need to give you an IV with some fluids." He told her and tried to disengage her fingers from his belt buckle without much success. "It'll make you feel better." He panted and she giggled as she managed to whip the belt from the loops of his trousers.

"Come to bed." She demanded on a purr and House just about snapped then and there. His jeans gaped and her hand slid inside. He gasped and flexed his hips as she wrapped warm fingers around his scalding length and pumped him slowly.

"Lisa…" Her name slipped from his lips in the tone of a prayer and her grin widened. "This isn't…helping." He managed to finish.

"Sure it is, I feel better already." She told him and leant forward, her lips capturing his.

That was it.

House was helpless to resist her. He could put it down to any number of things. He was worried about her, she needed this and he was helping her, he was drugged too so it was helping them both but the truth was…he just wanted to be with her.

He lifted his hand and tangled his fingers through her hair, angling her head to his so that he could gain the pressure he wanted over her mouth. He rose, pulling himself up over the bed and over her smaller body. She lay back under him, all skin and silk and warmth. Her curves pressing against the harsher planes of his body with scintillating contact.

The first time between them had been hard and fast. They had claimed each other in a storm of lust and hormones, screams and gasps, bites and scratches. The following events had been of a similar desperation. Coming together like their next breaths depended on it. Now though, the Valium had calmed her, letting her drift in a lusty placid haze that still demanded satiation but at a more languid pace. He squirmed out of his jeans and let them thump to the floor, his shorts shoes and socks going with them and then he was completely, gloriously, naked with her.

She arched her back and rubbed her breasts against his chest through the silk fabric of her bra. That reminded him, she wasn't naked yet. Something he planned to remedy as soon as possible. He flipped the clasp of her bra with one fluent move of his fingers and spun it away from her body negligently, not interested in the wrappings, just the luscious prize underneath. Her blue thong followed next, trailed down her legs and pitched over his shoulder with a scrunching of material. They were sprawled diagonally across the bed and he looked along the length of her body from where he rested at her knees and grinned. She raised herself up on her elbows and he was momentarily stunned by the sight of her. Her dark hair spilling down over the milky skin of her breasts, turgid pink nipples pebbled for his attention, full lips parted on panting arousal and that dazed look of lust in her gaze that was just for him.

"You're too far away." She lamented and reached out to brush her fingers over his shoulder. "Come up here." She offered on a grin and he knew it would be worth his while…but he had something he wanted to do first. His lips pressed in a chaste kiss on the curve of her thigh. She arched a brow at him and his lips trailed a little higher.

Her breath caught.

In one fluid motion he flipped her leg over his shoulder and buried his face in her wet heat. His tongue swept over her delicate folds in a long lap of shiver inducing pleasure right the way up to her clit where he lavished her with attention. Lisa collapsed back onto the bed on a throaty moan. Her fingers buried into his hair and anchored his mouth exactly where it was. Greg gripped her hips and soothed her skin in small teasing circles with the pads of his thumbs as his tongue lashed her in a welter of sensation that had her back arching clean off the bed.

"Greg!" She cried out his name and thrashed in his hold.

"Mmmmm?" He murmured against her in a deliberately drawn out vibration of a question.

Pleasure skyrocketed through Lisa's body and she whimpered thinking she couldn't take anymore. Then his hand slid between her thighs and two long fingers thrust inside her in a rocking counterpoint to the strokes of his tongue.

"Oh God…" Lisa gasped and panted. Her heart felt like it was going to explode her pulse was beating so fast. Her skin shone with perspiration in a slick glitter of lust over her entire body. Her head whipped back and forth in a denial that so much pleasure could come from one man's mouth and hands. "You're going to kill me." She groaned and he chuckled against her, sending her into another paroxysm of pleasure that had her jerking in his grasp. She couldn't take much more of this.

And he knew it.

He slid another finger inside her as he gripped her clit in his teeth, gently, and then lashed her with his tongue in fast swipes back and forth, back and forth.

She screamed as she came apart for him. Her back arching, her fingers digging into his hair and her hips thrusting up against him. Her tremors hadn't even subsided before he lunged up over her body and thrust into her with the hard length of his cock slamming into her core in a delicious invasion.

"Oh, yes, Greg!" His lips came down on hers and she wrapped her arms around him. She could taste herself on his mouth and the sensations blended with his own unique flavour somehow becoming more exotic than before. Her legs wrapped around his and he braced himself on his arms, stretching over her as he thrust almost lazily into her.

Bliss. That's what this was. He was blissed out…shouldn't he be doing something though? Or not doing something? There was something that they weren't supposed to…

"Greg, _harder." _ Her nails cut into his shoulder and he hissed at the blending of pleasure and pain that the love wounds caused. He was going to be hamburger meat if she kept this up…but that was okay. He could deal.

Every muscle in his body bunched and flexed in perfect harmony as he pounded into her. Each impact a sending off a nova of bone-melting pleasure that had her gasping and crying out. He was close, he was so close, but he wanted her there with him. Again. He leant down towards her, nipping the soft skin of her throat with his teeth, getting in a few of those marks that hurt so good of his own, and growled low in her ear. His voice was honey and gravel and sent shockwaves of pleasure through her brain.

"Come on, Lisa-love, let go for me. Come apart. For me." He thrust harder into her. "Just for me."

Lisa threw her head back and did as she was told. He felt so good. So right. Deep inside her. She brought his mouth to hers in a searing kiss of possession as she exploded from the inside out with mind numbing pleasure.

Greg shouted and followed her over the edge. Shuddering over and inside her as he spilled himself into her.

He came back to himself, braced over her on quivering arms. Panting like he'd run a marathon and with an abruptly cleared head. He looked down at her, stretched under him with her eyes closed in bliss and a small smile touching her lips. He could almost track the retreat of the drug from saturation point in his blood stream. If it weren't so disorientating then it would be a fascinating process…but he felt like he'd been hit by the hormone truck and then reversed over a couple of times just to be sure the treads had been really mashed in.

"You okay?" He asked her as he flopped down onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Mmm." She answered and turned her body to his, seeking warmth as she panted slightly. Her muscles quivered and twitched and then eventually stilled into a calm restfulness. House watched her for a few moments, taking in the way she rested curled on her side.

"Can I put the IV in now?" He asked her.

"Mmm." She rested her head against his shoulder and lay quietly as he stretched to the bag and took what he needed. She barely moved at all as he inserted the needle into the back of her hand and taped it into place, hanging the bag on the highest part of her wrought iron bed frame. He watched her for a moment more, uncertain how he should act now. He was good at the fucking thing, he was good at the medical thing but he wasn't so sure about the caring thing. He moved to the edge of the bed and picked up his jeans, considering putting them on. Her voice stopped him.

"Greg?" She sounded sleepy, half awake and still a little drugged. He turned to look at her, his eyes taking in every inch of her lavish naked form.

"Yeah." His throat felt raw.

"Stay with me?" She stretched out the hand without the needle in it, her fingers curling towards him. Her eyes were heavy, her pulse was still a little too rapid for his peace of mind and she probably had no idea what she was saying…but she had still said it. His eyes travelled back up her body and met hers. He nodded once.

"Alright."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I was just musing about how Cuddy must be really good at her job to have gotten to be where she is as young as she is (for the purposes of my fanfictions she's the same age as Lisa Edelstein, that would be thirty eight to you and me). **

**So it got me to thinking, you only ever see Cuddy at work when House is there to steal the show and try and make a full of her (let's be honest, he succeeds most of the time). Anyways, here's a scene that shows the real kind of power that Cuddy's got. I enjoyed writing it and I hope y'all enjoy reading it. **

**Um, I hate plot bunnies. The little bastard won't leave me alone! I'm trying to finish working on the nine (yah NINE fanfictions) that I'm already working on but these fuzzy little fuckers keep hopping up and going; WRIE ME!! and then they maul you. **

**Umm…planning on writing a story that is kind of the novel version of the 'Seven Days of Smut: Wedded Wednesday but not before I've at least finished 'Temporary Insanity'. **

**On another note, also planning a CSI fic that is of the Grillows persuasion. So if anybody knows a few good Catherine/Grissom fics would y'all please tell me what they are. **

**Purely for research purposes. **

**Anyways, enough ranting and on with the show! **

**Read and review me goddamnit! **

**Chapter 11: Working It Out**

"Remind me again why I am doing this." Tawny grumbled as she stood behind Cuddy's desk and accepted yet _another _form to sign from the apparently useless bunch that inhabited the hospital of Princeton-Plainsboro. Wilson looked over at her with a wry kind of grin. "Dr Cuddy has all these people and it seems not one of them can act on their own initiative." Tawny scowled and threw herself down into the seat behind the desk.

"Hospital policy, all roads lead back to the dean."

Tawny snorted and muttered something uncomplimentary about that in French. She flicked her wrist and looked down at the silver watch secured there. "I could still be in bed." She told him and Wilson blinked. "I like my sleep." She defended herself and Wilson tilted his head and shrugged.

"You did offer…technically. Is Cuddy really all right?"

Tawny nodded smoothly. "Her blood tests all came back as expected. She should start to get better now."

"Someone is with her?" Wilson asked and he didn't know Tawny well enough to pick up on the barest hesitation between her next words.

"Someone took her home." House had instructed her to keep his involvement with Cuddy on the 'down low', Tawny assumed that meant she used discretion in who she shared the information with but she had been wrong before.

"What's actually wrong with her?"

Tawny shrugged and hedged expertly. "Mild case of poisoning it's just a matter of bed rest and…working it out of her system." Tawny managed not to smirk at the double meaning of her words but she ducked her head to look down at the from in front of her when Wilson looked at her oddly. Schooling her features back into a controlled composition, she looked back up at him and asked brightly. "What's next on our agenda?"

"Meeting with the board, I'll be able to field most of their grievances since they'll nearly all be about House." Wilson picked up the itinerary for the meeting and flipped through it. "I think they want to try and renegotiate his legal expenses, free up some more funding for the paediatrics ward."

Tawny snapped her fingers and gestured towards the paper. Wilson frowned and handed it over when he realised this was her way of asking for the paper politely. Tawny arched a brow behind her glasses (yellow lens red frames ones today) which matched her gold silk shirt and blood red pantsuit. She scraped a nail absently over her lower lip as she read the document and then tossed it away with a huff of disgust. "I haven't even met them yet and I don't want to talk with them."

Wilson nodded on a soft chuckle. "I'll handle most of it. Just you sit there and…" Wilson trailed off at the imperious red eyebrow that was arched at him. He cleared his throat. "Sit there and look intimidating."

Tawny allowed herself a smirk. "I majored in intimidating."

Wilson watched her sit back and fold her hands behind the neat knot of hair at her nape. A grin like a tiger swiping its tongue over its lips pulled at her full mouth and Wilson's brows rose a fraction. He had no problem believing that she had.

Cuddy hummed in her sleep and rolled over. Her arm followed her and slapped down onto something warm and firm. Something warm and firm and smooth. Something warm, firm, smooth and…_alive._

She shot upright and flashed open her sea green eyes in a mild panic. She shoved dark hair frantically out of her eyes and ignored the sharp tug in the back of her hand as she gaped down at the long lean frame of her colleague. Her subordinate.

Her lover.

"Oh God."

House smirked and folded his hands behind his head with a feline grin of pleasure. "You can call me Greg." He informed her and she scooted backwards across the bed, dragging the sheet with her. He was naked. Completely buck naked and the sheet flipped down to reveal…_ohmygod!_ She'd forgotten how large he was. Cuddy gaped for a moment, torn between relinquishing the sheet and covering him or leaving him naked and putting some seriously needed distance between them. She opted for both by slapping the sheet higher over his hips eliciting a small grunt of discomfort from him and practically leapt from the bed and diving for the nearest item of clothing. Which happened to be his sky blue shirt. She hauled it on over her shoulders, pulling out the IV hastily while doing so and buttoned it with shaking fingers.

"Oh, we're going to have one of those morning afters." He said, sounding faintly amused and annoyed at the same time.

She whirled on him, confused and angry. She hadn't asked for this. She didn't like being out of control. She didn't want to be out of control with him especially. "Well, since you're so desperate to avoid it, why don't you just leave? The doors right there." She pointed at it and swallowed hard, suddenly fighting back tears. God damn it. She hated being like this. She didn't even feel like her body was her own anymore. "I'm not one of your 'distractions', House…"

"Damn right you're not!" He rolled off the bed and surged to his feet, ignoring the spasm his leg gave and stood chest to chest with her. "You're not like anyone I've ever had before and it's seriously beginning to fuck with my head!" He snapped at her and she blinked.

"I…what?" That had sounded almost like a compliment. Surely that was impossible though, this was House she was talking to.

"Don't get pissy with me just because you don't know how to deal with this." He gestured emphatically between them. "Because I don't know any better than you do." He looked angry at the knowledge, livid at the admission and a bit confused as to why he had said it out loud.

"Oh." She said, it seemed to be the only thing that fitted that outburst. "That's…" She smiled at him, not even questioning the rollercoaster her hormones was taking her on this morning as tears filled her eyes again but for an entirely different reason. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

He opened his mouth to issue a sharp retort and promptly had it die on his tongue at her words. "Well…don't get used to it." He finally muttered.

Silence echoed between them and Cuddy fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he stood there watching her.

"Do you want breakfast?" She asked suddenly and he blinked down at her. This was absurd. He was standing naked in her bedroom confessing his confusion. She was wearing his shirt and looking so good in it that he never wanted her out of it again (unless it was to be replaced with his arms around her) and she was offering him food. His stomach growled and he felt a small smile tug his lips.

"Sure. Why not?"

Her answering smile was worth the absurdity.

Tawny sat slouched over the boardroom table and stared at the fellow members around her. Her head was canted to lean on one hand pulling her eyebrow in a permanently disapproving arch and she was near sleeping with boredom. These people never shut up. How did Cuddy stand it? All they ever did was waffle about fundraisers and House's misbehaviour. It obviously had never occurred to them that if the man hadn't changed by now then he wasn't going to. Always the same people as well, she hadn't been paying attention when Wilson had introduced them and had been reduced to naming them Toady and Gawp for reasons that were fairly obvious when confronted with the amphibian-squat features of Toady and the oversized staring eyes of Gawp.

"Are we boring you, Dr McQueen?" Toady demanded out of his wide flat mouth and Tawny's elbow grated against the table as she turned with exaggerated care to look at the man.

"More than you can possibly imagine." She said with a flat monotone to indicate a small fraction of the absolute apathy of her attitude.

He gaped at her and, for a moment, he bore a striking resemblance to Gawp.

She jack-knifed up into a straight backed position and clapped her hands together as if she were about to address a group of pre-schoolers. "I have an idea, why don't we talk about something _other _than Dr House? I feel that there may be more important things to discuss pertaining to the running of a hospital, no?"

"No." Gawp stated flatly and Tawny's enthusiasm died. She slouched back over the desk and planted her brow back on her hand.

"Wake me when you become interesting." She murmured, boredom not improving her attitude.

"The man's a loose cannon and the only reason he's still employed here has become patently obvious in the last few days." Toady raised his thin nearly non-existent eyebrows at Tawny as if expecting her to suddenly become fascinated in his pallid visage.

Tawny sighed. It looked like there was no avoiding it. "Enlighten me to your wisdom." She requested drolly with a roll of her hand on her wrist.

"Well, I think his relationship with doctor Cuddy should be taken into account when judging his disciplinary action." Gawp said slowly like he had practiced the words in the mirror that morning.

"You think?" Tawny asked archly and Wilson made frantic eyebrow gestures trying to get her to be more polite but she ignored him, her patience wearing thin.

"Yes I do."

"I must admit that I'm surprised." Tawny had turned to stare directly at Gawp now.

"You think that their personal relationship would have no bearing on their working relationship?" Gawp made it sound like she was mentally deficient if this was so.

"Well, no, I don't. I was referring to my surprise that you were actually capable of thought. However," She stated loudly over his gasp of outrage. "While your partner may judge the parameters of your relationship judging on how well you do at work, I'm almost certain that the rest of the world does not share your personal problems." She stated coolly. She couldn't stand this bullshit about personal relationships interfering with business as usual. It was one of the reasons she had left the Regiment.

Gawp turned a rather charming shade of puce.

"For example, my husband is a painter. I don't roll him out of my bed and my affections if he happens to paint something that I dislike. That would be juvenile." Her tone was acid and a small smile tugged at her lips. She had finally found something about this man that amused her.

"In reference to the matter at hand, Dr House is a loose cannon but he is also an asset to this hospital. The only reason Dr Cuddy is in charge of controlling him is because the rest of you are too insipid to take charge and do it yourself." Tawny sighed and sat back in her chair with a swing. "Well, that and Dr House would eat you for breakfast." She grinned at them slyly then. "I have a simple solution to the problem of fraternisation, since you do seem to be determined to make it a problem, one of you takes charge of his actions. Accepting the difficulty of dealing with the man, the responsibility of his behaviour and, of course, the challenge of smoothing out the repercussions of said loose cannon's…shall we say idiosyncrasies?" She took in the room at large. "Any volunteers?"

Silence met her proposal. She half expected some crickets to chirp and tumbleweed to bounce past.

"Nobody wants to offer a solution?" Tawny asked in a sickly sweet tone. She was really beginning to enjoy herself as the board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats and shot wary glances at each other.

"I could do it." Wilson finally offered.

"No you couldn't." Tawny said immediately and Wilson frowned. Tawny hurried to explain. "After all, anyone who dares to like the man can't be trusted to make an impartial decision about him. That would be almost professional." Tawny said this as if the very thought were scandalous.

"Well, Dr McQueen, if you're so good at being impartial, why don't you ride herd on Dr House?" Gawp asked her succinctly and Tawny's chin raised slightly in acknowledgement of a well met blow. Who knew? The man had a spine.

Tawny slowly traced her tongue over her lips and mulled it over. It wasn't out of the question. She was fairly confidant that she could manipulate House at least as well as he could manipulate her. She tapped her chin idly with one manicured finger. "You know you sounded almost intelligent there?" She spoke to Gawp to buy time.

Gawp scowled at her. "It has been known to happen on occasion." He gritted. "Of course, if you yourself do not feel up to the task we will have to find someone who is and appoint them to it, since Dr Cuddy can no longer be trusted to…"

"Dr Cuddy can no longer be trusted to what, Baylor?" Cuddy's voice rang clearly and threateningly throughout the room and Baylor, or Toady as he would always be known by Tawny, froze in his chair and then inched slowly around to see Cuddy standing in the doorway, glaring at him in a manner that could have vaporised small lizards and rodents and probably kill a cat at fifty yards.

"Dr Cuddy! I didn't see you there." Baylor mewled, with an awful feeling deep in his copious stomach that he was about to die.

Cuddy strode into the room, her briefcase swinging at her side and clattered it onto the desk within millimetres of Baylor's fat fingers. She bent slightly so that she invaded his personal space, looking suddenly wolfish with the fearsome scowl that clouded her features. "Evidently." She ground out in a low growl and board members shifted and automatically deferred to her through body language alone. Tawny watched in interest. This was supposed to be a room full of peers but all eyes turned to Cuddy. She was undoubtedly queen in this court.

Cuddy straightened to her full height, augmented by the three inch heels in which she stood. Tawny thought it slightly amusing that Cuddy had happened, by chance, to be wearing a negative of Tawny's own outfit. A crimson shirt contrasted against the smooth pale skin of her throat and a deep gold power suit with a viciously cut pencil skirt off set the flashing blue fire in her eyes. Her hair was tumbling wild down her back and shoulders and Cuddy's nails clacked against the leather of her briefcase like the rattle of a snake as she swept her gaze around the room. Finally it rested on Tawny almost like a physical thing and Tawny ignored the fission of apprehension down her spine. She out weighed this woman by at least thirty pounds, all of it muscle and sinew and Tawny was nearly ready for rappelling down out the window just to get out of her way. She relaxed slightly at the almost imperceptible nod from Cuddy, the only sign of gratitude she would get for the moment.

Cuddy strode the length of the table and Tawny smoothly removed herself from the boss's chair. Cuddy sat, taking her throne, she folded her legs with smooth deliberation and then looked expectantly at Baylor then at Tawny. He removed himself from his seat and allowed the French doctor to sit. Tawny hid a smile while Cuddy cleared her throat and swept imaginary dust from the table before regarding the boardroom.

"We were discussing something?"

"I believe that Dr Baylor was angling at a threat to fire you." Tawny turned in her seat and looked up at the single standing doctor in the room. "Or was I mistaken in where that threat was headed?"

Baylor gaped and flapped for a moment before Cuddy interjected.

"Dr Baylor has been on this board long enough to know that it will take a great deal more than idle threats to remove me from my position. However, I'm sure that he did not intend to sound as…crass as he did. Did you, Dr Baylor?" Cuddy looked at him almost kindly and Baylor seized the lifeline.

"Of course not, Dr Cuddy, I simply meant that the hospital's reputation must be preserved. Though I have no problem with yours and Dr House's…" Baylor wisely let that sentence die as Cuddy's eyes turned to steel. "To an outsider it may appear to be…less than clandestine." Baylor was practically whimpering by now and Tawny could almost muster something resembling sympathy for the man.

"A valid point." Cuddy nodded and then flipped the intercom at her side. "Agnes, could we have another chair in here, please?" She straightened and then sat back in her chair. She seemed to think for a moment as she folded her hands on her stomach and rested her elbows against the arms of her chair. She looked up at the room at large. "Dr House and I are in a relationship of a personal nature."

Tawny was really beginning to enjoy herself. It had become obvious to her in the first thirty seconds in Cuddy's presence why she had become the youngest dean of medicine in the state. In that single sentence she had effectively copped to all charges and promptly forbidden anyone to ask anything else about the matter.

"I understand that this, while not being against hospital policy, is frowned upon. However, if you will allow me to be frank, it's none of your goddamn business what I do outside of office hours. While I work here, the hospital comes first, it always has and it always will. Which is why I have been able to procure over seventeen million dollars in hospital funds in the past five years, build two new cardiology wings and, incidentally, why we have the leading diagnostics department in the country." There was a note of finality in her tone and nobody spoke against it.

Gawp cleared his throat and all eyes turned on him. He looked uncertain for a moment, particularly under the intense scrutiny of Cuddy, but then finally voiced his thought before it died of loneliness.

"There is the, ahem, matter of impartiality?"

"Dr House is an ass, impartiality is impossible with the man." Cuddy answered flatly. "I do concede though, that given the circumstances, that changes should be made." Her eyes slid to Tawny.

"Oh hell no." Tawny stated flatly and Cuddy just smiled at her. Tawny was quickly beginning to associate this smile with some kind of dire circumstances heading rapidly her way.

"You would be an ideal candidate for the position, Dr McQueen." Cuddy pointed out mildly.

"The _Pope_ isn't an ideal candidate for this position!" Tawny hissed. She was not getting stuck in another admin job. She hated pencil pushing. "I'm a surgeon. I'm here to cut not as an au pair!"

"Your surgery rotation will not be affected, you will be called in to make sure that my decisions are impartial. It would be a figurehead position at most, Dr McQueen." Here she looked slyly at Baylor who was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic seat that Agnes had dreamt up for him. "Just to make sure that to an outsider everything appeared clandestine."

Tawny looked sideways at the rest of the board and then back to Cuddy. "So I just sign the dotted line and tick the allotted box?"

"Essentially? Yes." Cuddy beamed at her. "Now that's settled I think we can call it a day. I've not eaten yet and I'm starving." She smiled at them, lunged to her feet and out of the room in record time.

Tawny stared after her. She hadn't agreed yet! Launching herself to her feet, Tawny was the second of the dazed doctors to make a sharp exit and she powered down the corridor after Cuddy in time to see her disappearing into the bathroom. Tawny caught a nurse as she was about to go in and spun her around, propelling her down the hallway with little more than a fierce glare from behind her sunglasses. Tawny pushed her way into the ladies her sharp eyes fell on Cuddy as the smaller woman held herself up at the sink, the tap running full blast and air heaving in and out of her lungs as she tried to will herself under control. Tawny's irritation at being stonewalled into a position she didn't want vanished as she realised Cuddy had only done it in order to get out of the meeting as swiftly as possible.

Cuddy looked awful. Her skin was waxy pale, a sheen of unhealthy sweat on her forehead and her arms shook as she supported herself on them.

"Cuddy, you should go home."

"Uh-huh, I was an hour late for work today and Baylor nearly talked the board into staging a coup. I dread to think what would happen if I actually took a day off."

Tawny sighed, career woman! "The place is not going to…fall apart if you leave for a few days in order to not die."

"I'm not going to die, I just feel like it."

"Oh well, it's alright then." Tawny folded her arms over her chest and glared at Cuddy's reflection. "Where is my charge?" Tawny decided to try and distract her by changing the subject. "Perhaps I'll get him a leash."

Cuddy choked a laugh. "He'd enjoy it."

"Well, enough about your social life." Tawny muttered in mock disdain, though she really was worried for the boss of her boss. "How are…things?" Tawny decided to tread carefully.

Cuddy met her eyes in the mirror and finally managed to straighten. She smoothed her suit and then fussed with her hair a moment. "Awkward." She settled for. "Who else knows?"

Tawny shrugged. "I have told no one, not even Wilson. Though I imagine he knows now."

"I imagine half the hospital knows by now." Cuddy muttered darkly and stooped to pick up her suitcase with a look of determination on her face that gave away her discomfort. Tawny snatched it out of her reach. Cuddy looked on the verge of arguing, a mulish expression on her face but Tawny just arched a brow at her. Cuddy tilted her head with a watery smile. "Thank you. For everything."

"Not a problem. This is the most lucrative pay cheque I've ever had." Tawny shrugged and pointed at her suit. "This is Dolce. I have _dreamed_ of Dolce."

Cuddy smiled. They both knew she wasn't doing it for the money but Cuddy sensed Tawny needed to have an excuse to act nice. Probably in a similar way to how House couldn't stand to be seen as being pleasant. Cuddy suspected it had something to do with Tawny's mysterious past. She had been trained medically in the French army as part of an elite force of some kind, the French equivalent of the Navy SEALS or the British SAS. Paratroopers or something. Most of her CV had been 'sanitised' though with great chunks of it blacked out or classified. Cuddy didn't really mind, perhaps an ex-army woman would be the only one capable of reeling House in a fraction. God knew it would be nice to share the responsibility for a while.

"Are you ready to face the lions?" Tawny smirked.

"I was born ready." Cuddy smiled back only slightly strained and her shaking reduced to the occasional trembling. The both stepped out into the corridor once more and Tawny drew Cuddy into an animated conversation about Lorcain at breakfast that morning. How he had refused to wear his teddy bear scrubs again, no matter how much his younger sister pleaded.

"You have a daughter?" Cuddy found herself blurting. She had only heard of Lorcain.

"Mm-hmm, Madeline. We call her Maddy for short, she is a tearaway." Tawny smiled at the thought of her dark haired daughter and pulled a photograph of her from apparently nowhere to show Cuddy. She had the darker toned skin of her father and his same almond shaped eyes that seemed forever deep but there was a mischievous grin on her lips that was so like Tawny's own secret-keeping smirk that Cuddy found herself grinning back.

"She's beautiful." Cuddy complimented her. "How old is she?"

"She is three next month." Tawny secreted the photograph away again. Tawny was quiet a moment, the click of their heels the only companion in the relative quiet of the hallway. "Have you ever wanted children?"

Cuddy faltered slightly and gave a sad kind of smile. "I always have it just seems…to get shoved out of the way a lot."

"Hmm." Tawny said and Cuddy had the impression that she knew more than she was letting on. She was prevented from questioning her by the way Lorcain suddenly appeared out of nowhere and accosted them.

"Hi, mum! Dr Cuddy." He nodded at her with an enthusiastic grin and Cuddy placed a hand to her heart as it thundered under her palm.

"Don't do that!" His mother cuffed him on the back of the head and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Didn't hear me coming, mum. Getting old!" He taunted her and Tawny glowered at him.

"Don't you have a job to be doing?"

"Hey, I'm doin' it! Hence the suit. Aren't I so pretty?" He fluttered his eyelashes at them and Cuddy chuckled as he struck several poses and pouts in quick succession to show of his new suit. It was a stunning tailored suit made up of black and white checkers with an emerald green shirt that matched his eyes and a black tie. Green leather loafers completed the outfit.

"Not afraid of pattern are you?" Cuddy smiled at him and he pretended to preen a little further.

Tawny straightened his collar with a trifle more force than was necessary and arched a brow at him. "How many chessboards died for this monstrosity?"

"Mum! You made a joke!" Lorcain slapped his face as if the shock were too much for him. "I mean, who knew under all that fossilised military training there was the heart of a comedienne just waiting to issue toilet humour?"

"Children." Cuddy stepped between them before this escalated. "You have my schedule today, Lorcain?"

"Can do, boss!" Lorcain whipped a journalist's notepad out of his pocket and plucked the pen from behind his ear to point at each item on the list. "Walk with me, ladies, walk." Lorcain ushered them along the corridor, prudently out of his mother's reach and began to rattle off things that had been seen to by himself and Tawny and still needed attention from Cuddy.

"Wow, things seem to be under control." Cuddy murmured appreciatively and smiled at Lorcain. "Good work."

"See? Somebody appreciates me." Lorcain shot a meaningful look at his mother.

"I'd appreciate you if you were quieter."

"Meanie."

"Delinquent."

Cuddy watched the interplay with a great deal of amusement a faint echo of longing in her chest. This is what she had given up so that she could have her career. Mind you, Tawny seemed to be doing rather well for herself and she was married with two children. Maybe you could have it all…

"Oh, Dr Cuddy, I almost forgot. There's a woman here to see you. She got here at nine or something like that and said she'd wait to see you. She's in your office." Lorcain pointed through the doors and Cuddy could just make out the dark head of a woman sitting by her desk.

"Okay…donor?"

"Nah, doesn't have that money smell."

Cuddy could just make out Tawny rolling her eyes behind her glasses. She smiled. "Alright, you go and have some breakfast, since you didn't get yours this morning, and I'll deal with my nine o'clock." Cuddy dismissed them and turned away just as Lorcain offered his arm with exaggerated chivalry to Tawny and they both headed off to the cafeteria.

Cuddy made her way towards her office through the clinic and briefly thought of House. Things were definitely awkward between them. She was drawn to him, no doubt about that. She wanted him like she'd never hungered for a man before and he seemed to reciprocate with equal appetite. But how much of that was whisky induced sex-cravings and how much of it was their own chemistry?

She had just admitted to the board that they were involved, but were they really? Yes, they were sleeping together, and both enjoying it thoroughly, but that wasn't a relationship. That was sex. It was such a mess. She had managed to hold off any implosions of the career variety but she couldn't help but wonder if they were both careening towards a hurt that neither of them might be able to recover from. She knew that House could hurt her, she already cared for him, what would happen to her if she actually fell for him and he decided he was bored with her?

Cuddy sighed and shook her head at herself. It couldn't get much worse than this. She pushed her way into her office, pasting a greeting smile on her face and felt it freeze on her lips as the woman in the chair rose and turned to meet her.

"Hi, Lisa."

Apparently it could get worse. Much worse. Cuddy finally managed to unfreeze the brittle smile on her lips and force a word out.

"Stacy."


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, this is just a short one that REALLY deviates from the story line I had in the last version. **

**Mwaha. **

**Um, I quite like this, I was reading Enlee's 'Don't You Forget About Me' and this sorta just came to me. if you haven't read her fic then you should because it's excellente!!**

**Uh, not much of the Huddy in this one but that's been pretty heavy in the last few chappies so I thought we needed a dash of plot to offset that a bit. **

**Um, READ and REVIEW me!!**

**I know you're out there and you lot on adultfan in par-feckin-ticular! **

**No reviews for the last chapter (weep). I feel neglected. (pained flail). **

**Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy. **

**Chapter 12: Escalation**

Tawny strode along the third floor corridor with a long purposeful stride. Her heels clacked against the floor and her hair tumbled wild about her shoulders. Having the heavy mass up at her nape definitely looked could but her hair was so thick it felt like it weighed several pounds after a while. She had let it down now that she was safe from board meetings again. She hummed low to herself while powering along and slid to a graceful halt as something registered that she had just caught out of the corner of her eye. She moved to the polished glass door of the conference room and threw it open. She stuck her head inside and took in the sight of three highly intelligent and obscenely overpaid doctors…sitting on their collective asses.

"What are you doing?"

Her approach had obviously been quieter than she had thought because all three of the diagnostic team leapt to their feet, crossword puzzles, romance novels and neurology papers flying everywhere in the wake of the sudden movement. Tawny planted her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow at them.

"Was I mistaken in believing that you are paid to _work?"_

"Dr McQueen, um, we didn't see you there." Chase babbled.

Tawny gave him a look that clearly stated 'evidently'.

"Dr House isn't here to run diagnosis." Cameron supplied in her ever-so-helpful manner. Tawny's gaze swung to her and she almost smiled when the younger woman forced herself not to quail in abject terror. She was growing a spine.

Good.

"Do you have a shortlist of patients?" Tawny demanded patiently. At least, it sounded patient to her.

Foreman handed over the stack of files and Tawny frowned in concentration as she flipped through them quickly, taking note of symptoms and history but little else. "Cameron, take the four year old complaining of bowel pains, Foreman you get the middle aged double vision and Chase you get to go to NICU for the three weeks premi-baby." Tawny handed out the files to the respective doctors and dumped the rest on the table. Okay, hard part done, now she wanted some coffee. She strode to the machine and poured herself a steaming red mug of the black liquid, she turned, freezing with it halfway to her mouth when she saw the whole team staring at her in slack jawed amazement.

"Do I have something in my teeth?"

"You can't dish out cases." Cameron squeaked, halfway bold in indignation and abject terror of a woman that really was a lot bigger than her.

Tawny shrugged not understanding. "Why not?"

"Well, House will go nuts for a start." Foreman pointed out as if it were painfully obvious.

"House isn't here."

"But he will be eventually and I'd rather have you pissed at me than him." Chase said and took his seat again.

Tawny was beginning to feel the low burn of anger in her gut. She was used to, no, expected to be listened to and have her orders carried out to the letter. She was not used to having some flop-haired ponce from the bloody colony tell her what was her right to dish out or not. She marched over to Chase, slapped her coffee down on the table and bent, planting both hands on the arms of his chair so that her face was mere inches from his.

"Dr Chase, allow me to make your position quite clear. If House is annoyed with you, he will make you miserable for a week, get bored and move onto something else. If you suffer from the sheer stupidity of pissing me off then I will make you suffer for the rest of your natural life and enjoy it far more than Dr House would ever be capable of. Am I clear?"

Chase swallowed hard and nodded. She was really scary up close like this. Tawny smiled then and straightened, lifting her coffee and sipping delicately as if nothing had happened. There was stunned silence for a moment as all three doctors stared at her. She rolled her eyes.

"I will take full responsibility. Now go!"

They left with scurrying hurry.

Tawny scowled after them and headed for House's office. Perhaps if she was lucky she might be able to curl up on the recliner and sleep for half an hour. She yawned to that effect and pushed through the doors and into the dim interior of the House inner sanctum. It was blissfully quiet and peaceful in here. The air was cool as House kept the air conditioning high and Tawny gave a happy sigh as she sank into the plush leather cushioned seat behind his desk. She set her coffee down and frowned as it crinkled on something. Lifting the mug she inspected the large brown envelope. Tawny shut her eyes in dismay. She should have had one of them stay and open the mail.

Opening her eyes she brushed that aside. No, better to do it herself and keep her solitude a while longer. She ripped open the large envelope and frowned as the contents spilled out onto the desk. Photographs. Of House.

Tawny frowned and spread the small cut outs of House, of his face and some of full body shots, obviously from newspapers and possibly medical journals judging by the captions held on some of them. They had all been cut out with great hacking slices from scissors. Each face of Gregory House had been scored with red marker. Some had his eyes cut out and others had limbs removed with red ink further staining them in a gruesome parody of trauma. Tawny swallowed and jumped as a heavy card fell out of the envelope. It was a thick sympathy card with cavorting cartoon puppies on the front. Also with their eyes removed. It was bulky and crinkled as if it had been heavily glued. Tawny edged it open with a cautious finger, dreading what she might find inside and shot backwards in her chair, her hand covering the cry of shock that issued from her as she stared at the card's contents. Her coffee mug tilted in her slack fingers and the dark contents splattered and pooled on the floor.

Blood. Organs. Entrails.

Some poor animal had been eviscerated, its blood soaking through the card, the tiny intestines - probably from a rabbit – and the organs had each been stapled to another pasted photograph of House, collaged to make it look like the blood and gore were his. The smell hit Tawny first and she bit back a retch, there was something written on it. Something smeared in angry red letters on the 'clean' side of the card.

'_WHO'D WANT TO HURT YOU?'_

Tawny jerked back from the desk and stared down at the bloody writing. "Good God." She murmured and looked up almost guiltily as the door crashed open. She flinched at the sound, it shouldn't sound like a gunshot, but that's what she heard. House limped into the room with a wicked smile on his face.

"Bon jour my good French surgeon, and who are we cutting toda…" His words died when he registered the look of appalled shock that blazoned across Tawny's face. His hand fell to his side and something very like concern wriggled through him.

"What is it?"

Tawny could only open her mouth and click it uselessly shut again. She didn't have the words to tell him and she couldn't bring herself to look back at that card. It brought to many things back to the surface that she'd rather stay buried. House limped over to the desk and looked down at the mess all over his mail.

"Oh." He said.

Cuddy stood staring at the tall dark woman in front of her and tried to get her brain to compute what exactly was going on. It was safe to say that she was at a distinct disadvantage, her brain having been fried by her…condition and all. She made several attempts before she finally managed to force the words out and paste a smile on her face that might have been construed as welcoming if one had squinted at it.

"Stacy…you're here." Alright, so it wasn't the most eloquent greeting she'd ever come up with but, there it was. "What are you doing…here?" Cuddy hurried on and frowned in dismay when she realised that didn't sound any better than her opening comment.

"I came for a visit." Stacy smiled on a nervous shrug and Cuddy forced herself not to narrow her eyes accusingly and then beat the lawyer over the head with her own purse. A wave of possessiveness washed through the dean like a tidal wave of feeling and she was left barely standing afterwards. She really needed to sit down. She was not in the mood, or in any condition, to be dealing with Stacy Werner and all her associated baggage. After all, House wasn't really hers to be feeling all that possessive about. Cuddy tried to make herself believe this while buying time and sidling behind her desk, desperate to put even that meagre barrier between herself and the 'other' woman.

"You drove two and a half hours for a visit? Are you in town for business as well?" She was amazed that her voice sounded so light. Positively jovial, any strain that she heard was just her own nerves she was sure.

"Well, to be honest…"

Oh god, here it comes, Cuddy thought.

"Things aren't going so well with Mark, I needed to get away for a while and I just…ended up here." Stacy said on a small laugh that Cuddy didn't share. Looking back, she was amazed that Stacy hadn't been murdered by House years ago. The woman was insufferable. She must have some good qualities, statistically at least, House must have seen something in her aside from legs that went all the way up to her armpits.

Then again, knowing House…

"Lisa, are you alright? You look a little flushed." Stacy asked, her tone dripping saccharine concern and Cuddy couldn't stand it any longer. She had to get out right now.

"I'm not feeling well. You're right, I should go home." Cuddy nodded and shot to her feet. She stumbled as her head spun at the sudden change in altitude. She caught herself on her desk and shrugged away from Stacy's hand. She knew the other woman was just concerned for her, but even the thought of her laying a hand on Cuddy was offensive. "Leave me…! I mean, I'm fine, just let me get my jacket and I'll be going." Cuddy back-pedalled at the look of confused hurt on Stacy's face. Good lord, it was like kicking a mentally deficient puppy, she would probably burn in hell for daring to be mean to Stacy, but Cuddy really couldn't bring herself to care.

"You sure you're okay?" Stacy continued.

"I'll be fine." As soon as she got over her unhealthy addiction to Stacy's ex-boyfriend. He couldn't be that hard of a habit to kick. Just the thought of House had her blood heating and her knees on the verge of buckling. Cuddy made it to her jacket through sheer stubbornness and tugged it on. Loathing the weight of the extra fabric but belting it tight as if to hold herself in.

"I hope you're feeling better sometime, I really need to talk to you about something."

That was it.

Cuddy whirled at the door and gripped it so hard her knuckles whitened on the wood. She glared at Stacy and didn't even falter when a look of stupefied surprise swept across the other woman's face. "Listen, Stacy, you're having problems with Mark. I don't care, I'm pretty sure House doesn't care either but you have got to _stop_ dragging him into your screwed up personal problems. All you ever do is hurt the man and make him miserable. It's not you that has to watch him fall apart and then let no one else help him get pulled back together again." She was finding it difficult to breathe properly and get the words out, but this needed to be said.

"Go and speak to House if you want, get back together with him for all I care, hell have both him and Mark, you're good at multitasking, right? But stop whining and fucking about instead of fixing your problems!" Cuddy's chest heaved but she still wasn't done yet. She was actually nearly yelling now and she had to admit that the loss of control felt kind of good.

"You want Mark? Go to counselling. You want House? Go to a divorce lawyer. Either way, stop toying with them because neither of them deserve you." Cuddy watched as tears slowly fell down Stacy's face. She knew she would feel ashamed of herself later but all she could muster at the moment was a vague sense of revulsion. "Goodbye, Stacy, I'm going home now." Cuddy whirled and smacked right into Lorcain's thin chest, he steadied her with on hand and the checkers on his suit swirled in front of Cuddy, she had a sudden premonition of being violently ill all over the poor boy and pushed past him as quickly as she could.

"Cain, cancel all of my appointments and then show Ms Werner up to Dr House's office, they have unfinished business to see to." She didn't even turn to see him as she issued the instructions and Lorcain and Stacy were left blinking in her wake as she stormed out of the lobby and towards her car.

Lorcain turned to look accusingly at Stacy.

"What the hell did you do to piss her off?"

"Has anyone else seen this?" House demanded of Tawny.

"What? No. I just opened it because I knew you wouldn't and Cameron wasn't here." Tawny gestured wildly. "Do you know who sent it?"

"No." Was the reply and he said it like he clearly expected her to drop the topic. Well, he had another think coming. This had scared the crap out of her and she wasn't about to just let it lie.

"Have you contacted the police?"

He snorted. "You and I both know that they can't do anything. Besides, it's just some psycho with too much time on his hands."

"So was Charles Manson!" Tawny hissed at him and prodded him in the chest with her finger to emphasise her point. "House, this could be really dangerous. You cannot let this go unreported, when did it start?"

House shrugged, determined not to turn this into a big deal. He wasn't frightened, why was she so upset? "A couple of weeks ago, that time it was just photographs, last week it was a card with the writing as well and this week…_Pet Cemetery." _

"That's called escalation, House! The man is obviously working up to something bigger. This won't just go away. 'Psychos' like this always push until they are caught. If he's spilt the blood of an animal, the next step is a human being. You." Tawny stabbed her finger against his chest again and he glared at her.

"Back off, will you!" He grabbed her finger and pointed it away from himself as if he were afraid it was loaded. "I am not next on the food chain."

"What are you going to do if someone corners you with a knife? Run away?" Tawny planted her hands on her hips and glared at him like he was a child that had irked her in some fashion and deserved a stern scolding.

House reached down and swept the whole lot of his mail into the trash can with a contemptuous flick of his hand. "There. Problem solved." He told her sternly, standing mere inches from her. "You don't mention this again. Especially not to Lisa, she'll go nuts if she thinks her precious hospital is in danger."

Tawny glared at him. The man really was an idiot. "Somehow, I do not think it will be the hospital she is concerned for."

He snorted. Lisa wanted him because she was immersed in drug induced nymphomania, not because she had deep and meaningful feelings for him. She might keep him around the hospital, and many attributed that to her having 'special' feelings for him, but it was only so she could use his results for the betterment of Princeton-Plainsboro.

"Whatever." He snapped at his surgeon and his eye caught on something shining wetly on her golden shirt. "Clean yourself up, you've got icky on you."

Tawny broke her glare away from him and looked down to see the dark splatter of blood drying on the satin of her shirt. She swore viciously and a look of sheer horror came over her face as she saw the ichor blazing over her stomach. "Oh god, get it off." House frowned at the real note of panic that laced her voice.

"You're a surgeon and you don't like blood?" He asked disbelievingly when her jacket was thrust into his hand. Her hands went to the buttons on her shirt and his eyebrows shot up when he realised she intended to remove it right in front of him. "Tawny? Tawny!" He snapped at her his hand going over her, halfway down her shirt, the fabric gaping over the impressive view of her cleavage in cream and red lingerie.

It was that sight that Stacy and Lorcain walked in on when Lorcain shoved the doors open to make way for the lawyer.

"MUM!"

"Greg?!"

Lorcain gaped, Stacy's mouth fell open and then she burst into tears. House looked at them both and then back to himself and Tawny. Standing six inches apart, her jacket in one of his hands and his other over hers on the buttons of her shirt.

"Well…this is awkward."


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay, since SOME people were complaining that I hadn't updated any of my older fics, here we are. I feel that this one's a little disjointed but I really don't care. **

**And don't say that I'm mean like you're surprised. **

**You fooking KNOW I'm a bad bastid. **

**Carry on. **

**Chapter 13: And It All Goes…Awry**

"_Get away from my mum." _

House blinked at the growl that had just issued from between Lorcain's lips. The usually charming and light featured boy had his head tilted forward, looking up at House from under his fall of deep brown hair with murderous eyes. House frowned and lifted his hands away from Tawny's front.

"Now, kid, are you gonna believe what you see or what I tell you?" House asked in his best patronising tone to cover his embarrassment. He hadn't planned on being caught in this…compromising position.

House barely saw Lorcain move.

One second he had been by the door, standing by the gaping and tearing Stacy, the next he had launched himself over House's desk and had tackled the older and larger man to the floor.

"_Bastard!"_

House's chin was jerked violently to the side by the savage uppercut Lorcain delivered, straddling House's chest and already hauling back his left arm for a bone breaking punch to follow the first. House reacted first though, he didn't want the kid hurt, it was understandable to want to protect his mom, but House wasn't about to be signing up for reconstructive surgery anytime soon. A swift rabbit punch to the nose had Lorcain tumbling back and dazed. House surged up onto his knees and yanked Lorcain's arm up and behind his back, pushing his face down into the carpeting and using his free hand to wipe the blood seeping from his split lip.

"Jesus…"House panted and looked up to Tawny. She had removed her shirt in the scuffle and had replaced it with her crimson jacket. "I take it you taught him how to fight?" He demanded of her and a flush stained her cheeks.

"I taught him to think before he acted too." She snapped, her voice shaking only slightly. She shoved her shirt close to Lorcain's face, the stain visible to the struggling boy. He still wanted to tear chunks out of House. With his teeth if necessary. "I had blood on me Lorcain, I got it from a patient and I didn't realise until I got up here. The man had been in a fight."

That was apparently all she needed to say. Lorcain went limp against the floor. Breathing hard but no longer homicidal.

"Oh." His voice was small. He turned his head and rested it against the carpet. "Sorry, Doctor House."

House frowned but leant back, easing his knee off the boy's shoulder and releasing his arm so that it could fall back to its normal position. Damn, his face hurt.

"It's alright, she's your mom." That was about as understanding as he was prepared to be at the moment, but it was enough for Lorcain. He lay still for a moment and then curled up and onto his feet. He reached over and then sheepishly handed House's cane back to him. His colour high and obviously embarrassed at losing control like that. House had a slight inkling of how Lorcain had managed to go through three schools in as many months now. House didn't see the need to humiliate him further, besides, he didn't need Tawny going all maternal on his ass either. He took his cane and lumbered to his feet.

Tawny snatched her son by the scruff of the neck and hauled him out of the room with the intention of 'cleaning up'. Lorcain looked slightly resigned to his fate of getting a strip torn out of him, but not too bothered about it besides that.

House heaved in a breath and turned to see Stacy. He noted mentally that she seemed to have gotten herself under control. Thankfully. He didn't really feel the need to suffer through another water works performance. She stepped warily towards him. Reaching up she touched his lip and her finger came away stained in a rosy tint of his blood.

"I have that effect on people." He dismissed it and she almost managed a smile.

"Were you really…?"

"About to have wild sweaty sex on my desk?" House asked with a smirk and an arched brow. She couldn't really think that he and Tawny…he tried to picture the scene from her point of view. He resisted the urge to laugh. He supposed it could have looked like a bit of a 'private' moment that had been interrupted.

"Well, I don't think I would have put it exactly like that…"

"Well, we weren't." He snapped and kicked the trash can under his desk. The last thing he needed was her seeing the gore in there and demanding to know where it had come from. "I'm not her type, I don't have enough tattoos." He sat on the edge of his desk further blocking her view from the tell tale trash can with his body.

"Oh…" She looked down and inspected her shoes. Readjusted her jacket over her arms. House tried to quietly analyse what he felt at seeing her again. Recognition mostly. She had been a big part of his life. They had been together a long time…but he had known Lisa longer.

Where the hell had _that_ thought come from?

House shoved it aside and tried to focus on Stacy. He looked at her downcast face and felt…not a whole hell of a lot. He was mildly glad to see her, he hadn't missed her but he didn't particularly want to make her suffer upon seeing him again. The wrench of sending her away had dimmed. On top of that there was a thin film of mild irritation. Her timing probably could have been worse but only if she'd brought a bomb with her…he was busy trying to figure out Lisa at the moment and he really didn't need Stacy's particular brand of 'use 'em and loose 'em' to contend with.

"Why are you here?"

Her head shot up, okay, that might have come out a little harsher than he had intended.

"I came to see you."

He blinked at her in an 'annd…?' expression.

"I came…to talk to someone…about Mark."

"You drove two and a half hours to talk? About your husband. To me?" Now he definitely sounded abrasive but he couldn't help it.

Stacy glared at him. "Have you been talking to Cuddy, because I just got a variation on just that theme from her. I know she's sick, but Jesus, I don't think I deserved that!"

House arched a brow. Exactly how sick had Cuddy seemed? He asked instead. "You came to me for comfort?"

"Well, no…yes…I know you. You know me."

"Uh-huh…" he cast about the office briefly for inspiration and finally shrugged. "Go back to Mark, Stacy. Talk to him, try not to lie too much and…stay away from your ex-boyfriends. Having never been married, I'm not sure, but most folks tend to take the vows seriously." He patted her shoulder and stood. He didn't particularly want to be vicious to her but neither did he want to be her shoulder to cry on. That was what Wilson was for.

She gaped at him and he found himself tightening his fingers on his cane at the lash of irritation that slashed through him.

"You know this, Stacy. If you're not happy with him, leave him. But don't toy with him because it's not fucking fair." He straightened away from her and he could see the brewing of anger deep in her eyes…he just didn't care. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to see to."

It wasn't really a lie…it just wasn't the patient she expected.

He was headed to one very hot and bothered Dean of Medicine…and he doubted he'd be getting back to the hospital any time today.

**$inister $cribe**

Cuddy lay in the tub and tried to stop shivering. She felt reasonably peaceable so, either the drugs were slowly leeching out of her system or sitting in an ice bath was working. She would get out when her lips went blue. She checked in the mirror, they were a charming shade of violet at the moment so perhaps another five minutes. It wasn't really a proper ice bath. She didn't have enough of the treys in her tiny freezer to fill the tub, but the water was still damn cold and it was taking forever for the ice she had poured in to melt.

Eventually, she could stand it no longer and she hauled herself, limbs numb and shaking, from the tub. She staggered to a towel and wrapped it around her pale skinned body. Goddamn this…thing that had been done to her. If she ever actually caught the bastard that had spiked her whisky there wasn't a jury in the country that would convict…besides, she knew she was smart enough to get away with murder. She let the water out with a long sucking gurgle and padded through to her bedroom, finding the terrycloth robe that she usually only wore in the winter months and yanking it on with jerky movements.

She staggered through to the kitchen. Next stop was food. It got worse if she was hungry. The pangs in her stomach seemed to echo off the ones in her libido and amplified one another. She slapped together a turkey sandwich and wolfed it down in short order. She was so famished that she simply ripped open the packet of meat, sloshed mayonnaise over it and ate with her fingers.

On the bright side, everything tasted…more. Better more vivid, brighter and with a distinct sultry flavour to it. She snapped open a carton of orange juice and drained a gulp or three. Warmth beginning to return to her body now. For the moment she could handle it…but she dreaded when it would become intolerable. When she would be forced to call him, slide into his arms, let him have her and relinquish control. She shut her eyes as she shiver of anticipation trickled down her spine.

She couldn't pretend she didn't like it. The fireworks they created so easily together. She had to admit that he'd even been more…discreet than she had thought he would be. He hadn't blabbed to Wilson or made any more inappropriate comments than usual. He had soothed her, in the exact way she had needed. He had taken her discomfort and replaced it with mind blowing pleasure…he had been almost tender while doing it as well. The way he had met her eyes with his, something deeper than lust flashing in the heated blue depths, the way he had called her Lisa-love…the way he didn't know any better than she did when it came to dealing with whatever this thing was between them.

Cuddy felt a clasp of concern tighten around her chest when she realised this wasn't just sex. It wasn't some impersonal 'treatment' that he was doling out to her. At least, not on her side. She had always cared for him. Since college when he had been 'that guy' that she had fought with and toyed with. Since he had needed a job and she'd been in a position to give him one when no one else would have him…since the infarction and she'd scarred him in many more ways than one. She didn't feel guilty about that exactly. She wished that it could have turned out differently. She wished that he didn't have to suffer through that horrible pain of his every day. She wished that he hadn't let it take over and ruin his life…but it had been necessary and if she'd had to do it all over again she still would have gone to Stacy and offered her that illicit treatment. She still would have saved his life no matter what.

Stacy…

Cuddy's mind shied away from that and she suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. She shoved the turkey and the juice back into the fridge and scowled. Time for bed. She had come prepared today. House was with Stacy and she doubted that he'd be swinging by to see how little old her was doing if he was occupied with the Southern Belle lawyer. Cuddy moaned and rubbed her fingers over her temple. She should not be bitching like this. House was not hers to be possessive of…no matter how much she might wish it.

She trailed back to her bedroom and yanked her medical kit out from the drawer in the unit. She selected the syringe and the vial carefully and measured out the small dose of sedative carefully. The last thing she needed was to OD and have to be carted off to the hospital…that was a sobering thought. Who exactly would come looking for her?

A sudden wave of loneliness swept over her and she shook her head rapidly to fight it back. She was not alone. If nothing else she had her job and people that depended on her at the hospital. Being depended upon was better than nothing. Even if the words felt empty in her head she thought them anyway. It was a survival instinct by now. A mantra to get her through the days.

So, her personal life was shit, so were a lot of peoples. They still functioned. They still went on and she was not giving in. She was only thirty eight, she had plenty of time left. So long as she kept telling herself that she might actually begin to believe it.

Cuddy selected the vein with care, holding the tourniquet with her teeth and depressed the plunger in the syringe. She tidied up her mess before taking off the tightened band of tubing around her arm. She removed that once she was settled in her bed. She didn't have much experience of self medicating and wasn't particularly fond of the thought of taking a face-plant in the carpet of her bedroom.

Sleep swept over her just as the beginning burn began to register low in her womb.

**$inister $cribe**

House rode along on his motorcycle and let his brain whirl over the events of the day. That letter, the third in as many weeks, did bother him. It bothered him a lot more than he had let on…and he wouldn't tell anyone. Only Tawny knew and he was pretty sure he could convince her to keep quiet.

She was right though, as much as it irked him to admit it. She was right. The guy was escalating. House doubted that he would ever actually follow through and try to hurt him…but there was always a chance.

He was adamant about not telling Cuddy though. She would just flap and worry about things she couldn't change…and he really didn't need that kind of angst. Plus he didn't think he really wanted to hear about how she was so worried about the hospital and how inconsiderate it was of him to piss so many people off that he'd attracted a stalker.

He smirked behind the visor of his helmet.

He supposed it was just his natural magnetism. He was indiscriminately antagonistic. He supposed at least one of them would have been a psycho. Statistically speaking.

A frown flickered onto his face next. Perhaps he should got to the police. Just let them know what was going on. It went against his nature but…it might keep Tawny happy if nothing else. She had reacted badly today and she had lied to Lorcain about where the blood had come from. Which was understandable he supposed. Mothers were well known for lying to their children if they thought it was for the right reasons. House just hadn't got the feeling that Tawny lied about much, especially to Lorcain.

What had she said?

She had gotten blood on her shirt. Lorcain had relaxed almost immediately at those words. It stood to reason that he would know about his mother's phobia if she was indeed afraid of the sight of blood.

She had gotten it off a patient in the clinic. Fair enough, not true, but nobody wanted to tell their kid that they had just spilled their boss's death threat over themselves. It was the last part that really nudged at the grey matter though.

The supposed patient had been in a fight.

That was superfluous information. She could have said that she had gotten the blood on her from the guy in the clinic and left it at that…but she hadn't. She had gone out of her way to tell her son that violence had been involved.

Why?

Unless, of course, it wasn't the actual spilling of blood that she was afraid of. Or even getting it on herself, it was the reason said blood had been spilled in the first place. In this case violence. It was an odd thing to be afraid of. Blood, sure, but blood only spilled in violence? How would she know unless she had actually been the one doing the cutting? She was a surgeon, was she afraid of hurting someone? Now that made sense and it didn't at the same time. She was a good doctor, if she didn't want to be a surgeon she didn't have to.

House sighed and pulled his bike to a purring halt in Cuddy's driveway. He saw a few lacy curtains twitched in the neighbourhood and made a point of grinning and waving to the woman across the street. The one that smelled of old carpets and had six cats. He tugged his cane from the clips on the side of his bike and then dismounted as gracefully as he knew how. He considered popping a vicodin so the woman could see, she was still watching him, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was more outside interference to make Cuddy fight him.

He had meant what he said. He had no idea how to deal with whatever it was that was between them but that didn't mean that he was just about to let it go. They were onto a good thing. Well, a good thing for him anyway. He toyed with his cane for a moment and considered if it was really a good thing for her to be getting mixed up with him. They were good together, physically anyway, and there was more than a fair chance that they could be great together elsewhere as well…he just had to convince her to let him try.

He had stolen a key so it looked, to nosy neighbour at least, that he belonged here. The interior of the house was dim and he didn't bother with the lights. He was tired, it had been a long day staying up to ponder his patient, Tawny and Lisa…as well as having to deal with Stacy. Why were all the women in his life unnecessarily complicated? Well, he didn't know if his patient was a woman or not…had Cameron muttered something righteous along those lines?

He shook the thoughts away and ambled through to the bedroom. He shunted open the door with his cane and sidled inside. The lamp was on. Had she left it on for him?

He rolled his eyes at the thoughts of the insecure teenager who had infiltrated his brain. This was going beyond ridiculous to the point of hilarity. Well, it would be funny if it was happening to anyone else. All thoughts momentarily stalled when he found himself looking down at Cuddy deep in sleep.

She lay on her stomach, her face half buried in the plush mountain of pillows that she insisted on piling at the head of her bed. Her hair tumbled wildly about her face and she was naked as far as he could tell. The robe she had worn having been struggled out of earlier in her sleep lay massacred hanging off one side of the bed. He sat beside her, her soft moan when the mattress dipped filtered through the room. His fingers reached out and touched gently on her spine, following the trail of delicate bones down the curve of her body. She arched under the touch, this time her moan was louder, tilted by lust to the throatier range of her voice.

He kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks.

His fingers slid back up her spine and trailed patterns over the bare planes of her shoulder blades. She wriggled and rolled onto her side. He smiled, dropping his cane and removing his jacket.

He nudged one shoulder, rolling her gently onto her back and removed his shirt and tee shirt. He stood somewhat awkwardly and stripped his jeans and shorts in one movement. He could feel his burn for her deep in his veins. His skin heated and prickled with it. He climbed into bed with her, smoothing back the sheet, out of his way so he could see all of that pale creamy skin in all its glory. He trailed his fingers over her skin again, teasing her gently, wanting to awaken her to pleasure from the start.

She didn't waken. In fact, she rolled closer to him, slung her arm over his chest and gave a contented sigh. House frowned down at her. This was not going the way he had planned. She snuggled closer to him and went completely slack over his body. Deep in sleep. House pursed his lips, there was something not right about this…his eyes landed on a length of rubber tubing…the same kind of rubber tubing one might use to tie off their arm for injecting, oh, say a sedative? House eased open the drawer in her bedside table and growled when he found a suspiciously disturbed medical kit there. A one handed perusal of said kit's contents revealed a slightly less than full vial of sedative.

House flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling with a gusty sigh.

It was going to be a long night.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Okay, I know, it's been aaaages since I updated this so I thought I'd get in there with the smut. **_

_**Along that vein, it's been requested that I do a holidays smut series like the 'Seven Days' one. I do have an idea for a Christmas one which may be more like a encapsulated story or even a two-parter rather than simple one-shots like my first series. So that is sort of in the works.**_

_**It's now half past one in the morning and I'm working at ten tomorrow so don't say I don't suffer for y'all. **_

_**The Stacy scene (revisited) did not go how I intended it at all. It's not that I got tired of character bashing her it's just…they both kind of needed to let go mutually. They WERE a big part of each other's life and House did love her. you don't just switch that off and I tried to show that here. **_

_**Dunno if I did that exactly but I do know it was better than the last time around (blind monkey art would have been better than that) so…yeah. **_

_**Plus, I wanted to write an angry sex scene and trash Cuddy's uber clean house. **_

_**Read, enjoy, review, you know the drill and you know where the lil purple button is. **_

_**lawl **_

_**Chapter 14: Good morning, good morning**_

_Knock-knock-knock. _

Cuddy cracked an eyelid open and then resolved to ignore the summons of the front door. She burrowed deeper under the duvet and rolled over to flop her arm over something warm, alive and breathing. She bolted upright_, not again. _

House was sprawled out over her bed like he owned it. One arm wrapped around her waist and his legs tangled with hers. Cuddy swallowed convulsively. She hadn't invited him over last night, never mind opened the door for him. How had he…she _really_ needed to move that damn key.

_Knock-knock-knock!_

Cuddy sidled down onto the bed again, but only so she could try and extricate her legs from her colleague's without waking and/or harming his leg. He mumbled something in his sleep and rolled against her, dragging her flush against his body with a single arm around her waist. Cuddy let out a squeak and stifled it quickly. The last thing she needed right now was to wake him.

"Go back to sleep, they'll go away." He told her, kissing her with a sear on her throat and then burrowing his face in her hair.

Tempting…very tempting.

_KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!_

"On second thoughts, love, go kill 'em and then come back to bed." He murmured against her ear. She took the permission and decided not to think about needing permission to leave her own bed, before rolling swiftly off the mattress and yanking her robe out from under him. The blue silk kimono was crushed and she scowled at him. The expression melted when she realised how cute he was when he was asleep. Whoa, definitely time to be leaving.

Cuddy powered out of her bedroom, belting her robe shut as she did with a cinch to her slim waist and finger combing her hair back to try and look some semblance of normality. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and wondered who she was kidding. Normal, not with that 'I've just fallen out of bed and no I wasn't sleeping' hair. Not to mention the stubble burn on her neck and…hickey on the curve of her breast. She yanked at her robe and then unlocked the door realising it was a lost cause. Nobody but she knew that House was in her bed expecting his 'love' to come back and she could handle anyone with enough glaring. Cuddy threw open the door and…

Aw crap.

"Lisa, I needed to talk to you. I know you were angry with me yesterday, and I understand that but I…" Stacy finally stopped after barrelling past Cuddy. The doctor did not shut the door and instead just folded her arms over her chest and planted one foot on top of the other to preserve some body heat.

"Is that a rash?" Stacy gestured at Cuddy's neck.

Cuddy's brows rose and she pursed her lips a moment in thought. Sticking the truth might be easiest. "No." She didn't elaborate.

Stacy's eyes raked over her. "Am I interrupting something?"

Cuddy thought about that for a moment too. Again she stuck with the truth. "Just my first chance to sleep-in for about six months." She did omit the fact that she had not been sleeping alone but Stacy _really_ didn't need to be enlightened to that.

Stacy seemed torn for a moment and finally let whatever it was that was messing her up this week spill out in a tumble of rushed words. "Is Greg seeing someone?"

Cuddy's eyes flew wide and then she deliberately got a handle on her expression, trying to cover the slip by reaching up and tunnelling her fingers through her hair. This was not the time to be thinking about how she liked it better when House repeated the same action, especially when he tugged her mouth up under his afterwards and…

"I…" Stacy was hanging on her every word. Cuddy really was a crap liar but in this case, she deemed it necessary. "As far as I'm aware it's not anything…serious." She hedged. Her nympho-maniacal condition may have been serious for her, but House could drop it as soon as something better came along. They were not in a relationship they were…hell, even lovers might be stretching it. That would involve some kind of emotional attachment on both sides and as far as she was aware this was _all_ one sided.

"But he is seeing someone?" Stacy wanted to know.

Cuddy had to get her out of here. House was impatient at the best of times, more so when he was denied something he really wanted. Like a chance to further humiliate his boss by making her beg him to fuck her. Cuddy's cheeks burned at that particular memory and then she brushed it aside.

"I don't know, I hear the rumour mill is grinding something about him and…a woman." She choked out after a moment and then soldiered on. "But I don't pretend to be an expert on his social life…"

"Oh please, you're the closest thing there is to an expert on Greg."

Well, Cuddy had nothing to say to that. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she managed to quit the trout impression and fill it with words.

"Trust me, nobody suffers more because of that than me." She smiled tightly. "Now if that's all then…" She looked to the door and Stacy smiled softly.

"Jeez, I'm sorry I interrupted your day off. You head right on back to bed." Stacy waved her off and headed for the door.

Cuddy glared at her back, her temper flaring. Since when did she need _anyone's_ permission for getting in and out of her own goddamned bed?! She hustled Stacy towards the door and forced a smile.

"Well, yeah, I'm up now anyway so…"

"Yo, love-muffin!" House shouted sarcastically from the back of the house. "You done with the door-to-door salesman yet? I'm looneleey!"

Cuddy shut her eyes on a wince. So close. She had been _so close_ to getting out of this without a full scale domestic. She opened her eyes to see Stacy staring at her as if betrayed.

"Lisa, is Greg calling you…'love-muffin'?"

Cuddy let her head thump against the wood of the door. "Trust me, it'll be the last time." Cuddy muttered.

"Seriously," House continued, his voice getting closer. "This is eating into time that I could be spending in nookie-land…"His voice trailed off abruptly, Cuddy didn't turn to look but she guessed that he had limped out into the hallway and had seen Stacy standing in the doorway. "Aw crap." He said eloquently.

"You…and he…nothing serious, huh?" Stacy demanded and Cuddy's temper finally frayed and snapped in one fluid motion.

"Listen, _Stacy._" Cuddy demanded suddenly. "I don't have to explain myself to you, not in my own house. If you want to talk about this, you do that with him." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at House. "But Goddamnit you will not be talking about this with me and not in my home. The porch is that way." She pointed over Stacy's shoulder and then spun on one heel, storming past both House and Stacy to get to her bedroom. They both watched her go and jumped when she slammed the bedroom door with enough ferocity to make the frame rattle.

**$inister $cribe**

"Well, you wanted something?" House leant against the brickwork of Cuddy's house and gazed over at Stacy. The southern lawyer paced back and forth, chewing on a fingernail and obviously trying to gather her thoughts.

"You?" She finally demanded incredulously. "And Cuddy?"

House's jaw worked as he felt irritation snap through him and tighten his muscles all over his body. The pain in his leg instensified to an angry throb and he'd left his vicodin on the bedside table. He'd already had one this morning but damn if the pain wasn't getting worse with every passing day.

Why did everybody have to treat the idea with such scorn and derision anyway? He was the king of scorn and he thought they had a chance together. A slim and tiny one, but a chance was a chance.

"Well?" She demanded.

House noted that the curtain in the neighbour's window twitched. He lifted his hand on a tight smile and waved to the old cat lady across the street.

"Huh, I didn't realise I had to say anything. I thought you were just going to stomp around for a while and state the obvious."

"Greg this is serious…"

"Damn right it's serious." He stepped closer to her, right in her face. "You need to get a life and stop screwing around in mine."

Stacy's eyes widened as she stepped back. He didn't follow. He'd stopped following her a long time ago.

"Listen very carefully." He ground out. "What we had is over."

She stood and rubbed her hands over her arms. She looked suddenly cold. "She'll never accept you, you know. Not really. The hospital comes first with her. It always has."

"I know that." He told her, sounding defiant. Just who was he trying to convince?

Stacy snorted in derision.

"Same way she knows I'll never be social magnate of the year."

"It'll never last."

"It never does."

She looked up at him then and a change seemed to come over her. she seemed…accepting. Finally. "It's really over now isn't it?"

"It's been over for a long time." He told her quietly.

She heaved a sigh and dredged up a smile he couldn't have formed in her place. She reached out and took his hand squeezing gently. "Does she make you happy?"

The question caught him by surprise. He could have deflected. Could have made some stupid comment about Mark. Hit a low blow and had her running off the porch in floods of tears but the invective had left him somewhere. He would have though that 'this thing' with Cuddy and him was too new and fragile to lay such a weighty thing such as his happiness, or lack thereof, on it…but it took the weight with surprising ease.

He nodded. "Yeah. She does."

Stacy nodded back. Her smile marred by a single tear that she didn't bother to wipe away. "You two are…right. I should…work things out with Mark. I guess…"

"It was hard to hear." He finished for her.

"Yeah." Her voice cracked but she rallied and smoothed a hand over her face. Swiping away the rogue tear as if it had never been. "I'm gonna go now." She stepped forward and hugged him. Tightly but briefly, stepping away before he could even give her a perfunctory pat on the shoulder. "Good luck." She told him.

"You too." She turned to leave and his hand stopped her. "Mark loves you. Remember that."

They shared a long look and she nodded. "I know. Goodbye, Greg."

Then she was gone.

House turned and opened the front door back into Cuddy's house. He may have managed to get out of that confrontation unscathed but Cuddy wasn't going to let this fly. She was scared, feeling out of control and very probably humiliated. Something slammed in the bedroom and he winced. Not to mention a healthy helping of rage on top of all that. He knew her. Could read her better than he could read anyone and she still mystified him.

This, however, this 'thing' between them. Whatever it was…felt completely beyond him. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and considered how to go on. He could hear her slamming drawers open and closed in the bedroom and, just as he reached the door, it flew open before he could react. She stopped short, millimetres from just walking right through him.

"Oh, you're back. Is Stacy waiting outside?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "She's gone back to Mark."

She nodded and brushed past him. "Really? You're choice or hers?"

He followed after her. "Pick one." She started gathering things. Her coat, jacket, pushing her feet into her shoes. "Where are you going?"

"Work. You know, big building, doctors, lots of sick people." She smirked at him with no humour at all and started for the door. His hand fastened onto her elbow.

"We're going to talk." He told her. Her things clattered to the floor and she spun to look at him.

"You? You want to talk about…?" Her hand waved back and forth in between them.

"Of course I don't, but you want to run and I'm not having that."

"I'm not running. Why would I be…?"

"Because you don't want to admit that this matters." He gritted to her. He was really getting sick of the fact that no one believed him even capable of caring about her. Never mind actually doing it.

"I don't even know what 'this' is." She stepped closer to him, speaking from between clenched teeth. She was angry. Good, is she was angry she'd stay and fight. He needed to fight for this. "But I do know it's not what you're making it out to be." She spun away and he yanked her back again. She hit his chest with a rush of inhaled air and then looked up at him eyes wide, wondering what his next move was.

"Then why did I stay?"

"What?" She was frowning now, confused.

"You think this is just sex? Why did I stay last night? You were out for the count, no nookie to be had there. Why didn't I just cut and run?"

"I don't know, morning sex seems to be quite popular with you."

"No, morning sex is popular with _you_. You're nuts if you think I'd ever refuse you and I know you can't refuse me, as high as you are. If I'd really just wanted you to spread your legs then I'd have woken you up with a stimulant last night and you know it." He snapped at her and finally released her letting her stumble a step back.

"That's…beside the point."

"That _is_ the point, Lisa!" He was very near to yelling now. "I'm so sick of this!" He deliberately reined himself in and hissed through gritted teeth.

"Sick of what?! Hmm? Being drugged? Forced into a…situation with a colleague. Your reputation through the mud, the whispers, the rumours and all that _crap_ following you everywhere?" She went toe to toe with him. "Oh wait, it's not _you_ that's happening to, you ass." She jabbed a finger into his chest.

"You've always made my job difficult, House, but congratulations you've _finally_ succeeded in making my entire life a living hell." She spat at him, chest heaving and their eyes locked in a cold fire glare.

"You want hell? Try having someone you've wanted for the past twenty years think you're just after a good lay." He bent so they were eye to eye and enunciated slowly so that each word was a stinging barb.

For one long moment the silence was thunderous between them in the foyer by the front door. The deep inhalation before the downpour of the storm. The lull of quiet before all hell broke loose.

_Wham!_ House found himself shoved up against the hallway table, her hands buried in his hair and her mouth hot and insistent under his. He was surprised at first, still angry, still wanting to fight, but this was good. This was better. Something cracked and the table wobbled, neither of them stopped to investigate. His tee shirt was already off, torn and tattered to the floor, a victim to her irate fingers. There was another clatter as his cane hit the floor and his arms came up and around her, pinning her to his chest.

His belt buckle clanked, his jeans parting under her hands and her mouth driving him to distraction. He hissed a breath out when her slim hand delved inside his pants and shorts to wrap around the long hot length of him. He swore and she laughed. Smugly. This was a power play thing.

She wouldn't be so damn smug in a minute.

She'd pushed him against the table, now he decided to push back. They crashed across the hallway, the table tumbling to the floor without them bracing it up. One of its legs bent crookedly out of alignment. Her back slammed against the wall and she gasped, his chest crushing hers and forcing the air out of her. She bit his lip deliberately and he growled. His hands spanned her thighs, lifting her up against the wall, sliding her upwards until her chest was level with his mouth and he could pin her with the weight of his body. She kicked out in annoyance at his larger size letting him win and her shoe flew off, shattering her mirror by the door and sending it crashing to the floor. Her hand slapped backwards against the wall, pushing her back against him and a picture was sent soaring off its hook and battering against her hardwood floors. Leaving a mark probably.

His hands were free to grip both halves of her shirt and rip it apart with a snap of fabric and a ping of buttons. Her bra didn't have a front clasp today but that apparently didn't matter either because it was ripped away too. The fabric burnt against her skin and she snarled against his mouth, biting his lip and then plunging her tongue against his. Gripping his hair hard enough to hurt. She felt like she was on fire and only he could bank it. Not put it out, not sate her with any permanence, but it was only him that could give her back control and all she had to do…was lose it.

"Bastard." She gasped against him, realising the truth.

"Stubborn devil-woman." He answered and yanked her suit jacket and shirt back off the curve of one shoulder to lay his teeth there and see what kind of impression he could make. He scraped down, nibbling and sucking to swirl his tongue around her spiked nipple.

"House!"

His hand snagged her wrist and forced it against the wall, skewing a light shade in the process. He nibbled and sucked while she writhed and bucked against him. Her system heavy with aphrodisiac drugs and lust for him…though the lust did seem to be on the greater part of the equation this time. Her skirt was shoved up around her hips, the material spooling over his hands and feathering against her thighs and his belly. He laved his tongue over her breast again and she whimpered. His fingers tangled in the ribbon of her underwear and there was another rip when he tore that from her too. Ripping away the layers. Baring her to him, forcing her to admit what she didn't want to.

"Wrong name, Lisa-love." His tongue lapped up towards her collar bone and he let her slide a few inches down the wall so he could nibble at the line of her jaw.

"Greg…please!"

"Please what?" He sucked her earlobe and whispered in her ear. "Please take you? Done that."

"I'm not going to beg." She gasped against him. She had her pride…she thought.

"Sure you are. Why? Because you need me. Not just want, not just physically, you _need _me."

"Don't…" She didn't know if she was asking him not to say things or denying the things he'd already said.

She lifted her head, her hair curtaining around her face and brushing against his. She was panting so close to him her breath feathered over his face. "Only as much as you need me." She smirked. She had him, he'd never admit…

He grinned, triumphant. "That much, huh?"

She had a split second to realise that she'd just been played before he dropped her and twisted his hips her whole bodyweight impaling her onto his cock. She screamed, writhing her still shoe clad foot slamming backwards. Her heel sinking into the plaster of the wall. They were trashing her house…and she didn't care.

He gripped her hip, pulling her tight against him, gentling her with kisses while she came down. Her skin tingling as if a live wire had been scored over it. Her chest heaved against his, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"You bastard, that hurt." She groaned against him. It had, it had hurt so good.

His hips rolled and her head lolled back against the wall. She moaned long and low and wrapped her legs around him, her foot slipping out of the shoe stuck in the wall. Her bare heels digging into his back.

"Want me to do it again?" He nipped her throat with his teeth.

She nodded, eyes shut in bliss. "Hell yes."

So he did.


	15. Chapter 15

**Okies, short update for y'all. Um, again, changing it from the original, Tawny is not suddenly going to become this huge character in the story but I will be adding more of a back story to her in this version. **

**Uh…it's quite short and a teeny cliffie at the end for y'all but nothing to heart stopping. **

**Enjoy. **

**Chapter 15: Old War Wounds**

Tawny bolted upright in her bed, chest heaving under the tank top she was wearing, a cold sweat slick on her skin and a wild look in her eyes in the dimly lit bedroom. She winced at the golden chink of light filtering in through the curtains and pulled on the first pair of sunglasses her hand landed on. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and let her feet touch the cold floor, hoping to ground herself in some small sense. Her hand shook so she buried her face in them to keep them occupied. Tangling her fingers through her thick wild hair when even that didn't work.

Her shoulder ached.

"Hey, you alright?"

She jumped, startled, and looked up at Lorcain, telling herself she didn't have a guilty expression on her face. He was standing in the doorway to her bedroom. Sleep mussed in his shorts and tee shirt, frowning at her.

"I'm fine. Go back to bed." She insisted.

"I heard you yell."

"There was a spider."

"You're not afraid of spiders."

Tawny looked at him hard through the lenses of her glasses. "Never too late to learn." She closed the discussion. "Where's your father?" She pulled on her dressing gown, letting the cool silk slide over her shoulders.

"Downstairs cookin' breakfast."

Tawny nodded and squeezed her son's shoulder gently before propelling him out the door. "Go and order me something from the head chef, I'll be down in a minute." He looked at her a long moment and she arched one red brow. "Go."

"Going." Lorcain knew that tone and he knew better than to disagree. He should have still, technically, been in the bad books for laying one on her boss and she hadn't even sniped at him…something was most definitely up. He spun on a bare heel and then slipped down the narrow staircase to the pub downstairs that Michael ran during the day, maybe dad knew something.

Tawny scrubbed a hand over her face and let the shiver steal over her with icy cold fingers. She rubbed her arms and knew she wouldn't be feeling warm any time today. The flashes of the nightmare, the sounds of screams and the lurid splatter of blood caused her to jerk without thought or intention to do so. She scowled and huddled in closer to herself, standing alone in the cool pale light of the hallway and wondering why she still couldn't bring herself to talk about it.

Michael knew. He had to. He had known that after Bosnia…she'd been different. After Bosnia she'd retired and vowed never to fight again. After Bosnia she had done everything in her power to discourage Lorcain's idolisation of the armed forces. Thank God he had enough of herself and his father in him to question every order that was thrown his way or else he would have probably enlisted on his last birthday. Tawny shivered anew at that thought. No, her children would never go through what she had. That was why she had done it.

So they wouldn't have to.

"Mammon?"

Tawny turned and looked down, smiling at her daughter without forcing it. Madeline, her little beauty. "Bebe." She answered and stooped to pick her daughter up for a much needed early morning cuddle. She held Maddy tightly and Maddy pressed a wet kiss to her mother's cheek, then held up Bear (who actually appeared to be some kind of rabbit) for the same kiss treatment. Tawny obliged, knowing it wouldn't be worth her morning not to and then headed down the stairs.

She knew she was far from alright. She had many scars, both inside and out, and healing was never going to be an overnight thing for her. She was improving though. Mere months ago she would have awakened the entire street with her screams after a nightmare like that. Now, not even her husband noticed them.

For which she was grateful.

The kitchen was, as usual, chaos. Michael stood by the hotplate cooking up a storm of all manner of things and Tawny slid into one of the booths closest to the counter and the kitchen doors to wait to be served her breakfast. Michael was, in all likelihood, still up from the night before. The pub was a thriving business that started late and finished early. Which suited Tawny fine, she had needed her solitude last night.

She loved her husband. She loved Michael so much it hurt sometimes, but last night she had needed to be alone.

"Coffee."

The steaming mug was held under her nose and Tawny had the choice of either drinking it or wearing it. She chose to imbibe.

"Maddy, go and find Lorcain and make sure he's not burning the eggs." Michael lifted their daughter from Tawny's arms and then slid his huge lithe body into the newly available space. He pressed a searing kiss to Tawny's throat. She tilted her head back and hummed. Coffee sliding warm down her throat and his lips nibbling hot at her neck. There were worse ways to wait for breakfast she was sure.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?"

"Our son should learn to keep his mouth shut." Tawny's cup clunked to the table and she looked at Michael seriously. "It's fine."

"So you admit there is an 'it'?"

Tawny's eyes narrowed. The man was impossible sometimes.

"Cain's just worried about you. So am I." He let her lean back in the booth, giving her the space she needed, but his hands found her feet, pulling them onto his lap and rubbing soothing circles onto the smooth skin in a way he knew she loved. She had been known to do many, many things for a foot rub in the past. "I think we need to talk about what happened in Bosnia." He finally said and every single one of Tawny's muscles went rigid.

"What's brought this on?" She demanded sharply.

"Did you hear me in bed last night?"

"You didn't come to bed last night." Tawny frowned, this was a trick question. What was he playing at?

"We shut down here early. I was in bed by two, back up at seven. You didn't even twitch when I came into the room…then you started thrashing around and screaming. Do you remember waking up hysterical?"

Tawny turned away and bit her lip. No, she didn't remember any of that. "Did…?"

"Lorcain heard. Maddy had her Pooh Bear music box on and she sleeps like the dead anyway." Michael scrubbed a hand through his long raven hair and huffed out a breath. "I'm not asking for gory details, I'm not wanting you to break your heart on this all over again, but I do want you to lean on me if you need to." He ducked his head until she lifted hers and met her eyes. "Okay?"

Tawny looked at him and knew she could never tell him the horrific truth. She smiled, gently, and lied smoothly to his face.

"Alright."

**$inister $cribe**

House did his best to clear up the damage in the hallway, but there was only so much a man with a cane can do without aid of a glue gun. He managed to clear the shattered mirror away, put the picture back on the wall and remove her shoe from the plasterwork. He winced at the hole and moved the umbrella stand to cover it as best he could. He was negotiating with the hallway table, trying to convince it to stand on three legs, when the drawer gave out and clattered to the floor. He cursed, his guilt at taking her so hard (well, there was more than a little pride mixed in with that too) and trashing her hallway was waning fast and he didn't need the added aggravation of her waking up to a wrecked hallway.

He had left her asleep on the bed and planned to be back there as soon as possible…just as soon as he'd cleared up the scattered mail that had spewed from the drawer upon impact with the floor. He jammed the drawer back into its housing and stuffed bills, junk mail and a postcard from Cuba back into the drawer with barely a second glance but then his fingers grasped on something thicker and he stilled.

Maybe the latest Victoria's Secret catalogue. Her lingerie collection _was_ extensive but perhaps he could now have some input into what she ordered. He should get input after all now that he had told her…

House started to hurriedly demand of himself that he not start freaking out about what he had half said to her the night before about needing her. All thought abruptly stalled though upon spotting the winged caduceus symbol next to the postal mark on the plastic wrapped package. The top had been half ripped open, like she had started to open it and then thought better of it. House hesitated, something icy and feeling a lot like fear sliding down his spine. It was from a specialised clinic from somewhere in the city, he didn't recognise the name.

Why would she have this sent to her house?

House swallowed hard. If she were intending to talk business with the clinic then she would have contacted them through the hospital and she hadn't done that. Which meant it was personal. House stared at the package. It was the size of a fashion magazine but he could feel differing shapes inside over that. Like an information pack on a medical condition. The kind of information pack you got when you had just been informed of a life changing medical condition.

House stared at it. What the hell was wrong with her?


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**Another short chapter for this one but there is smut and funnies so I thought you'd all like that. I've updated, I know, shock horror. **

**Get over it. **

**Somebody did comment that this is marked as complete in one of my other older fictions when I talk about it in the author's note but that was back when it was the original. **

**THIS IS THE REWRITE. **

**And since I lost the original when my computer suffered from a Vulcan mindwipe I'm now remaking this one up as I go along but I am a better writer and Tawny is no longer a Mary Sue so all is well and I should be safe from the flames…if not I have flames of my own…you have been warned. **

**Review me!!**

**Ciaoooooooo.**

**Chapter 16: Unconventional Diagnosis**

_House stared at it. What the hell was wrong with her?_

"House?"

House started at her voice calling to him from the other room. He stuffed the mail together and crammed it back into the drawer of the desk before canting it back onto a reasonable angle that may or may not have resulted in it falling all over the place again. He gripped his cane and hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the throbbing twinge in his thigh, he went to find her. Limping along the corridor to her bedroom he popped his head around the door and affected an apathetic air.

"Yeah?" He spoke slowly and let his eyes wander over her. Any thoughts of differential diagnosis were abruptly halted as she sat up and smiled almost shyly at him. It was beyond him how she could be shy after the incident in the hallway last night, or the one on the dining room table, or over the back of the couch or even here in the queen size bed that was still too small for his ranging frame.

"I thought you'd…" She looked away. "Never mind."

"Gone?" He smirked and ambled into the room, limping around the foot of the bed to stand between her and the sunlight streaming in through the window. "Not likely, I'm waiting for you to cook me breakfast."

"You slept in my bed and you want me to cook for you too?" She asked archly and shifted the sheet at her chest so that she could tuck it under her arms. House did not approve. He'd spent last night ogling her whenever he had pleased, he wasn't impressed with the idea of chastity at all.

"Don't recall doing much sleeping." He smirked at her and crawled onto the bed, looming over her. He was in his jeans and tee shirt but she was still handily naked. He watched her reactions, timing them, let the diagnosis begin. Her cheeks flushed first, the stain travelling down her throat and chest a little, her pupils dilated at his nearness, her breath caught and her heart rate skipped higher. He measured that by the thrumming pulse in the hollow of her throat. She licked her lips, tilting her head back for him as he dropped a kiss on her lips. She moaned and kissed him back harder. Was this aggression a symptom from the drugs she was on, her mystery illness or did she just think he was a stud?

Her arms looped around his neck and she pulled him down on top of her, reclining amongst the pillows on a sigh and undulating her body up against his through the thin silk of her sheet. His hands slid over her skin, pulling the sheet down and out of the way. He stroked his fingers over her, noting the way her skin prickled at the sensations he elicited from her in time with her gasps and mewls of pleasure. He kissed his way along her jaw line, down over her throat and biting choice areas, causing her to twitch and gasp. Reflexes were fine too it seemed.

"House…" She gripped his tee shirt in both hands and House jerked when her fingers pulled and the material split under her hold. She literally ripped the shirt from his back and chuckled low in her throat in satisfaction when she peeled it from him and smoothed her hands over his chest. "You're taking too damn long." She told him breathlessly and House tried to measure her respiration while keeping a thin control over his own.

"What? Now we don't like foreplay?" He asked her. She couldn't stand the stimulation? That could be a symptom of…of…oh God _why_ was she doing that thing with her tongue now? House's brain shuddered to a halt and his hips bucked against hers before he could help himself.

"Foreplay's fine, but I want you naked and inside me _right now." _House moaned in surrender, forgetting his differential, when she shoved at his shoulders and rolled her hips, expertly flipping him under her. Her thighs clenched over his hips and she wriggled down against him with a wicked smirk tugging her kiss swollen lips. Her hands made short work of his belt buckle, whipping the leather away to clank against her dresser and knock something to floor, the snap of his jeans was next and his zipper snarled weakly under her onslaught. Her little hand delved inside the denim and wrapped around him, he hadn't bothered with his shorts and, as a result, he was more than ready to buck his hips up under her hand.

"Cuddy…" He warned her on a growl.

"I thought you liked foreplay." She grinned down at him and stroked her fist down with a twist of her wrist that had him squirming. "Besides, that's not my name." She leant forward, stroking him slowly up and down, her thumb swirling over the dripping tip of his cock. House gasped under her even as she spoke with a teasing lilt to her throaty voice. "Say my name, Greg."

"You're asking for it, Lisa." He gasped back to her and she just chuckled down at him. Confidant in her control.

"I am, but can you deliver?" She brought her finger to her lips, a droplet of his pre-cum glistening on the tip. She lapped it away slowly and hummed in the back of her throat like she'd just been given an exquisite treat to taste.

It was House's undoing.

He pounced on her, shoving her backwards and flipping her around so she was splayed under him, her back to his chest. She wriggled under him, not happy at not being able to see him, but he didn't care. Snagging a pillow, he stuffed it under her twisting hips and kicked his way out of his jeans. Flicking the denim of the side of the bed with a contemptuous movement from one foot. He buried his hand in her hair and turned her head to an angle that forced her to arch her back, her ass pressing up and back against his throbbing cock.

He hissed in pleasure and rotated his hips against the lush curves of her backside. She moaned when his cock trailed lower, brushing over her creamy sex. Slipping just inside her in a torturous teasing that she loved almost as much as the act that followed. His free hand directed hers to wrap around the wrought iron bed frame and anchor herself there. He nudged her legs apart and used another pillow to raise her hips to the perfect height for his fucking. He turned her head a little more, looming over her, and took her mouth at exactly the same time as he thrust into her with his cock. He swallowed her scream and took the bite she delivered to his lip in good humour.

Taking a woman from behind was never easy with his leg and he usually refrained, but with Cuddy he just couldn't resist being able to see her fantastic ass while he rammed himself deep inside her. Besides, any pain from his throbbing leg was just blending from the pleasure of being buried inside her and twisting him up towards a higher level of nirvana. He released her hair in favour of gripping her hips and hauling her backwards every time he thrust forward.

She was close, he could tell by the twisting arch of her spine, the mewling gasping noises she was making and by the way his moaned name was leaking from her lips. Her knuckles had whitened on the bed frame and she was pushing back to meet every one of his thrusts. Her ass sliding against his hips and her inner muscles clamping down on him like molten velvet.

God, he couldn't last much longer.

His hand slid around her hip and between her thighs. A gentleman never came first and the bedroom was the one place where House endeavoured to be better mannered than everyone else. His fingers slid over where they were joined and she keened her approval at that. He circled her clit in the way he knew she loved and watched her back bow. She thrashed under him so hard that she caused the bed frame to rattle under her hold. Another swirl of his fingers, another buck of his hips and nip of his teeth and they were in it.

She screamed and twisted under him, he bellowed against her shoulder and exploded inside her. Her spasms milked his twitching cock and he rested his forehead against the plane of one of her shoulders. His breath gusting hot and dry against her sweat slicked skin.

"So," he panted, "was it good for you?"

She groaned and shivered with a small chuckle under his weight. He rolled them both to the side and wrapped his arm around her waist. They quieted together and House let various facts roll through his head. Like the fact that he had forgotten all about his diagnosis in the heat of the moment (or woman as the case was), that he had forgotten to use a condom _again_ (and House never forgot) and the fact that he was quite content to just lie here for the rest of the day. Even if his leg was getting stiff and in need of a little vicodin. He decided that he could deal with the first and the last items on his list but the contraception shouldn't be too much of a problem since she shouldn't be ovulating yet and the contentment would probably disappear on its own if given enough time.

"How do you feel?" He asked her, taking on his first task once more. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked her over. She was relaxed and sated, a little dazed, the best time to get answers from her.

"Post coital." She murmured into the arm that she was using as a pillow. "Don't ruin it for me."

"You don't feel any…light headedness? Nausea? Disorientation?" Neurological symptoms were a good start he felt.

"House, you're not _that_ good or even that bad." She mumbled again.

"No, joint pain, muscle spasms or cramps?" He couldn't drop it.

"House, the only muscle spasms I've recently suffered have been my keagals shaking hands with your cock and what the hell is with the twenty questions?!" She braced herself up on one arm and rolled over to glare at him.

"You're sick." He told her bluntly.

"No, I'm drugged and horny, slight difference." She snapped at him and sat up.

"No, you have a medical information pack in your mail. From one of the more expensive clinics on the upper east side. Some place that only your medical insurance would cover. Care to share?" He levelled himself up on his elbows, completely uncaring that he was naked even when she was pulling on her silky dressing gown. It covered her from neck to ankle and House couldn't really bring himself to feel pleased about that. She whirled on him, anger evident on every line of her face.

"You went through my _mail?!"_

"No…"

"I don't even want to hear it!" She cut him off sharply. "I don't care what stupid justification you've given yourself, House." She stooped and grabbed up his jeans, tossing them at him so hard that the belt buckle smacked him hard enough on the nose to raise a welt. "You've gone too far. That was _private. _Remember 'privacy', House?" She was yelling now, really pissed at him and House was too busy trying to figure out _why_ she was so upset to realise that she had effectively chased him from the bed and was backing him down the corridor, throwing his clothes at him as she went.

"That's it. I was an idiot to think that I could trust you. This is _over._" His blazer flopped over his head and he scrabbled to hold it along with the growing pile of clothing in his arms as he hobbled backwards. His back hit the front door. "No more late night visits, no more sex, no more _nothing!"_ She spat at him.

"Cuddy, I didn't even…"

"_One_ more word and you'll be in clinic until you collect social security!" She levelled a threatening finger at him and then shoved him out the way, yanking open the front door. House had a sudden bad feeling about where this was headed.

"Cuddy, be reasonable…"

"_REASONABLE?!" _She shrieked at him. "Let's see how fucking reasonable you feel after you've been drugged, fucked and snooped on by the worst employee in your hospital. Let's see how reasonable things seem then, huh?" She shoved hard at his chest and House went sprawling on her porch. "And DON'T come back!"

The door slammed hard enough to echo down the street.

House lay there, dumbfounded at having being thrown out of a house by a woman that weighed about half of what he did, and naked at that. He gathered himself and hauled himself to his feet before hammering on her door. She'd come to her senses. So, she was a little pissed, hormonal was to be expected with the nympho cocktail she'd been given. He rapped hard on the door with his fist and tried to hide behind the ivy surrounding her front door. The evening air was a little drafty in his undressed state to say the least.

"Come on, Lisa, I don't even have my cane!" He shouted after the third round of knocking and looking plant like.

The door opened and he smiled, he knew that…

_WHACK!_

"Ow!" House rubbed at his head where his cane had walloped him as it had been thrown out the door. A small orange bottle whistled through the air and struck him square on the chest before falling into his palm.

The door slammed shut once more and House was left there wearing nothing but a cane, a vicodin bottle and a rather confused expression.

_This _could be problematic.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

**Okies, just sat and written this right here and now so it's a bit rough and ready but I know y'all love that. **

**AND WHERE ARE MY REVIEWS BTW!!**

**I know it's a rewrite, kiddies, but the plot has quite firmly departed from the original and is going in new and interesting directions. So there is no excuse. **

**Yet again, this chapter was truncated because it went in a way I hadn't intended and I didn't have the heart to delete it all only to try and force it and see it all go skew-whiff (and, yes, that is the technical term for it). **

**So, House is pissed, Tawny is roughed up and partially explained and Cuddy just gets crapped on from all sides really. **

**You know you love it. **

**Read and review!!**

**Chapter 17: A Hesitant Diagnosis**

House stepped into the bar and blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. The place was a dive. Even as dives went, this place was more dively than most. It was a little after two and now the locals were slumped over the bar, drunk and wasted on alcohol among other things he was sure. He stepped into the smoky interior and hobbled to the bar, he ordered himself a double scotch and a brew to wash it down. He settled himself at the nearest and cleanest looking stool and took a swig of his scotch. The beer chaser mellowed the burn a little.

He looked down at the print out in front of him and scraped his fingernails over his jaw. His brow furrowed in deep thought. The letterhead at the top of the printout bore the same caduceus symbol that Cuddy's information pack had. He stared at it. Swirled the whisky in his glass and stared at it. It was a fertility clinic. A clinic for in-vitro, for helping women conceive.

For _sperm donors. _

This time the whisky had an even harsher burn and he didn't swallow some beer to lessen it.

She'd been…_using _him.

He gazed at the paper until the letters swam out of focus. Until the only thing that was left was a burning thought in his brain that he'd been tricked by her. He was under no illusion that he had been entirely selfless in his…treatment of her, but he'd at least thought they'd been honest about it. Sure, she was pissed at him for 'reading' her mail. Who wouldn't be pissed once their secret was blown? He swirled his bottle of suds and downed half of it in a deep pull. Then he finished his scotch and ordered another one. He told the good barkeep to keep the liquor coming. He crumpled the paper in his hand. His fist eating the unblemished sheet hungrily before he shot it over the bar in a perfect two point shot into the trash can.

It would have been a fair assessment to say that House would have quite happily sat there and gotten completely plastered on whisky and beer with his empty stomach, maybe wash it all down with an almost dangerous number of vicodin pills, staggered home with the aid of a ludicrously expensive taxi and crashed in his bed, none the worse for the wear. Aside for the force five hangover the next morning.

He _would_ have done exactly that…had he not seen her in the back of the bar.

More accurately, he spotted her reflection first, before spinning with more than a little wobble to look with his own eyes and properly identify the woman bending over the pool table much to the enjoyment of several of the nearby reprobates. His diagnosis was confirmed when one very long legged, wild haired surgeon stood up with a flick of her tiger coloured curls and smirked down at the smelly biker type over the top of her pool cue. She said something to him on a smirk that he obviously did not enjoy judging by the way his knuckles whitened to fists at his sides and the way his friends laughed and jeered at him around the pool table. Tawny compounded Large-and-Hairy's irritation by reaching over and plucking his cigar from the ashtray and blowing a smoke ring in his face.

"What the hell is she doing?" House asked himself. Tawny was dressed…differently today. Yeah, different was a word for it. Her long legs were completely bare, her skirt really just a belt with delusions of grandeur, she was dressed in a black leather and Chinese embroidered silk corset with a white shirt tied under the valley of her cleavage just to make sure _every_ man in the bar was definitely looking at her.

"I dunno, but she better watch herself." House looked around to see the barman polishing a glass, the tattoos covering his arm rippling while he watched Tawny with a stony gaze. "Larry's not so gentle with the lady's, if you catch my drift."

Larry had apparently been pushed far enough, because when Tawny turned away to take her next shot, bending over to line up her sights, Larry smacked her hard.

On the ass.

Tawny jack-knifed upright, whirling on Larry, eyes flaring over the rims of her black wraparound sunglasses. The cue whirled in her hand, the tip coming to rest under Larry's chin like it was a blade and a snarl issued from between her lips.

"Aw, hell." House was already on his feet, hobbling full pelt across the room.

Too late. All hell broke loose. Larry apparently didn't like a mere female getting uppity with him. He grabbed Tawny's wrist and twisted viciously in a move that should have shattered the delicate bones in her arm and it would have if Tawny hadn't lunged forward in a jabbing motion with her elbow. The hard corner of bone smashed into Larry's windpipe. Larry shortly became acquainted with the pine nut shells on the floor. Thug number two picked up a spare cue and lashed it across Tawny's shoulder blades. She snarled in pain and whirled. A harsh upper-cut to the jaw, a head-butt to the nose and a knee to the groin had the next charming gent joining Larry on the floor for tea and crumpets.

Now Larry's crew were really pissed. They leapt at Tawny as one and she turned to meet them with her teeth bared in a savage grin.

House paused for a fraction of a second, she was _enjoying _this.

But then Larry's friend smashed a bottle over the edge of the table and lunged for Tawny's kidneys. Tawny was somewhat occupied with the thug she had in a headlock and the other one she was introducing to the business end of her Prada heel. House didn't hesitate. He pulled back on his good leg, flipped his cane until he was holding the rubber tipped end and swung out in a perfect striker shot. Years of lacrosse flooding back in that one perfect swing, the clack of the wooden ball being shot from the tiny net was replaced with the wet smacking sound of his cane crook meeting a glass jaw. Bottle breaker tumbled to the ground like a sack of shit.

This of course, earned him a smack to the face himself.

House staggered, but didn't fall. He might have been skinny, but you didn't get to be as big as he was without acquiring some strength to go with it. He spun around his movement swallowing the momentum of the shot to the jaw and then delivering it back to the charming gent that had given it to him in the first place.

Then it really did degenerate into an all out mêlée.

House reached for Tawny, he had to get them out of here. She was already bleeding from a head wound, her shirt was ripped and hanging off one shoulder. She had a hold of a guy from behind, her forearm wrapped over his throat. His face was a charming shade of puce. She released one arm long enough to sucker punch a guy and send him to the floor before mule kicking a guy in the gut and leaving him gasping. House had been in enough brawls to recognise when somebody was used to being in the bull-ring and Tawny was _thriving _on it. She actually laughed when a guy pulled a knife.

House grabbed hold of her elbow, now it really was time to be leaving.

She spun on him, fist raised, a look of fury in her eyes that wasn't entirely sane. She blinked at him, shuddering to a halt, her brain stalling at this new anomaly.

"We gotta go." He pulled her towards the door.

"House?"

Luckily the brawlers seemed to have forgotten who exactly had started the fight and were just content to beat the crap out of each other. House yanked Tawny closer and tried to hustle her towards the door. He thought he could already hear sirens in the distance and he really didn't need a run in with the cops right now. He tended to have a general distaste for them.

"What are you doing?" Tawny stumbled against him, she seemed dazed, her eyes glassy behind her wraparounds. She touched a hand to her head and blinked at the crimson stain on her fingers. "I'm bleeding."

House yanked her through the crowd, avoiding flying glasses, fists and kicks as deftly as he could. He glanced at her. Was she concussed?

"House, I'm bleeding, I'm really bleeding." She laughed then, a high pitched hysterical sound. They tumbled out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, drawing glances from the passers-by. House ignored them and hailed a cab, he gripped Tawny's hand in his and pulled her with him, hearing the uneven clip of her shoes against the concrete. He turned as the cab pulled up, her fingers had gone slack. She was staring at her hand, the blood on it seeming to fascinate her. She stared at it like she had never seen it before.

"Tawny?"

"That's my blood." She whispered. "I'm bleeding."

Then her eyes rolled back in her head and House had to lunge to catch her before she hit the street.

**Sinister Scribe**

Cuddy glared at the phone as it rang. She knew who it was. The blessing of caller ID had his name scrawled across the tiny screen of her cell. She wasn't going to answer. She didn't care what he had to say.

She wanted nothing more to do with him.

The cellphone fell silent.

Cuddy smirked at it in triumph and turned back to gluing the leg back onto her hallway table. Her skin flushed at the memory of the act of breaking the table but she told herself it was nothing to do with _her _it was all the drugs. She was not to blame. Even if she still ached from the memory of him deep inside her. He had invaded her privacy. Crossed the wrong line for the final time. Cuddy picked up the pile of mail on the floor and stilled at the glint of blue on her ring finger. The huge rose shaped sapphire glinted cheerfully at her. Her jaw tightened at the charade that was hers and House's 'engagement'. What a farce, she was going to go to the surgical department tomorrow and cut it off herself if she had to. Doctor Taylor had said that the safest thing to do would be to just let the glue dissolve from wear and tear and let the ring come off by itself, but the very thought of keeping it on her was suddenly repugnant. She could not be in a relationship with House. False or otherwise.

Right?

Cuddy sighed in frustration at the ever spinning whirl of her thoughts and looked down at the package in her hands. The one that house had read. The one she had rather he had never even known was in her House. She turned it over and looked at the seal. It was ripped in one corner and…unopened.

He hadn't opened it.

He hadn't read it.

Cuddy jumped when the cellphone bleated insistently again. She stared at it for a moment and swallowed hard.

She had pushed him away. Out of her bed and her home if not out of her life. She had succeeded in will power even if she was still drugged and pining for him.

No, she denied, not pining for him, pining for what he could do to her body. He was a fix and she was suffering a temporary addiction. Nothing more.

Denial could be a beautiful thing sometimes.

The phone fell silent once more.

Cuddy let out a long sigh. Recognising the disappointment rolling through her chest and couldn't help but feel she somehow deserved it. She had thrown him out without giving him a proper chance to explain himself and she felt bad for that. It was odd how she could trust him with a patient over all other things. She had thrown away a hundred grand just to keep the man on her staff because she had known that he wouldn't get work anywhere else. They were tied to each other. He needed her to let him do his thing his way and she needed him to keep her on her toes. To stop her going insane from the boring monotony of hospital administration.

How odd that she would let him literally hold the heart of a complete stranger in his slightly megalomaniacal hands but she wouldn't let him anywhere near her own heart.

Cuddy nearly leapt out of her skin when a heavy fist hammered on the door. She frowned, knowing that knock but hoping that it wasn't him anyway. Getting to her feet and padding to the front door, she drew it open cautiously, prepared to send him away with a harsh glare and terse words, before she threw it open all the way, her face reflecting shock rather than outrage.

"My God, what happened?"

"Tawny had a disagreement with a bar." House ground out from between gritted teeth and staggered in, Tawny leaning heavily on him not appearing to be fully conscious.

"Bar of what?" Cuddy asked, her hand going up to cover the bleeding head wound over Tawny's left eye, and her shoulder going under the taller woman's to offer further support.

"A bar full of people." House spat and lurched into the living room. The two of them somehow managed to get Tawny to the couch without both her and House crashing to the floor in a pain ridden heap. Tawny slid onto the couch and melted onto her side, legs sprawled and her eyes open but unfocused. House lowered himself onto the coffee table with a grunt. A sheen of sweat on his brow and his hand white knuckled gripping his thigh.

"Good God." Cuddy breathed, rolling Tawny so she could examine the wound more closely. "I'll get my kit." She half glanced at House. "You need anything?"

"Another shot of whisky would be great." He deadpanned and swallowed two vicodin. Tawny was neither small nor light and he'd had to carry her from the cab to the front door by himself. Cuddy ignored him and fetched a glass of water for him instead when she grabbed her first aid kit from the closet and headed back to the living room. House was leaning over Tawny, speaking gently to her, trying to get a response. Cuddy was rocked by the sudden lance of jealousy that speared her belly. She shook it off as irrational and padded over to kneel beside the French woman. She pulled a penlight from her kit and tested her reflexes first. Tawny looked comatose and that _worried_ Cuddy.

"Tawny?" Cuddy shone the light in and out of her field of vision. "Tawny, can you hear me?" Tawny didn't say a word. She didn't even blink. "Pupils are responsive. How hard was she hit?"

"I don't think it was the blow to her head. That was glancing at most." House rumbled from behind her and Cuddy ignored the heavy tension in his voice and the way her skin prickled in response to it. Cuddy heard it in his voice. The thinking tone. He'd seen something in his colleague that didn't add up in his ever-ticking brain and he needed to figure it out. Cuddy rotated slowly on her knees, rummaging through her kit for the materials she needed to clean Tawny's head. She pulled out some sanitary wipes and needle and thread. The gash was small, but deep enough to require stitches.

"What have you seen?" She enquired. It amazed her steady her voice sounded when inside she was roiling.

"Blood." House propped his chin on the crook of his cane. Cuddy gave him an 'obviously' look and handed a little trash bag to him for her to dispose of the blood soiled wipes in.

"She's a surgeon, but she freaks at the sight of blood. Especially when it's on her clothes." He fell silent for a moment and Cuddy sorted some anaesthetic for the wound in prep for stitching it neatly closed. She threaded the hooked needle with sure movements of long practice and held tweezers in her other hand. She exhaled slowly and then went to work, careful to keep Tawny's long, now blood soaked hair out of the way. She moved in silence, waiting for House to finish his thought process. She was intensely aware of him sitting right behind her. His knee brushing her shoulder on occasion. "Bloodshed in violence…I think she has PTSD." He finally decided and Cuddy turned to look at him with a frown.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"It fits. Irrational unstable behaviour, nightmares, lack of sleep, lying to her family about it and she does have a background in the armed forces. Some people tend to think that war zones are a little traumatic and there's a long gap between her last job with the French Legionnaires, or whatever, and her signing on at Princeton-Plainsboro. She could have been in recovery for that time."

"What triggered it?" Cuddy was pulling Tawny from her shirt, considering House's observations about Tawny and blood, Cuddy didn't think it was necessarily a good idea for her to wake up in a bloody shirt. Even if it was Dolce.

"Triggered it?" House said and Cuddy stilled at the hedging tone in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm assuming that prolonged exposure to you wasn't traumatic enough to send her off the deep end. So what set her off in the first place?"

"Guy in clinic bled on her shirt." House finally said and Cuddy turned to look at him.

Their eyes met for the first time since he had come in the door and that same electrical energy that was always there zinged between them like a lightening to rod. Cuddy's breathing hitched and his eyes darkened, though not just with arousal. Something deeper roiled in his gaze, something…annoyed.

Well, she supposed if she had been shoved out on her porch naked then she'd be a little pissed too.

"I'm sorry about this morning." Cuddy turned back to Tawny and pulled her shoes off gently. She settled the other woman's feet up onto the couch and then pulled the angora throw from the back of the sofa down over her supine form. Tawny's eyes had finally closed and she seemed to have settled into a deep, if slightly fitful, sleep. She gathered her kit back together, snapped off her latex gloves and tossed them in the little trash bag he was still holding before heading for the kitchen to wash up.

"Which part?"

She jumped when his voice issued right behind her and whirled to see him. It was the first time she was close enough to him to see the gash on his lip and the bruise high on his cheekbone.

"You're hurt." She reached for him but his hand snapped around her wrist like a manacle and gripper her attention just as tightly.

"I said 'which part'?" He ground out to her and Cuddy frowned. It was one thing to be embarrassed or pissy about being thrown out naked on her doorstep, but quite another for him to be _this_ annoyed.

"For throwing you out. I should have given you a chance to explain. I…you didn't actually read it." She finished a little lamely.

"Damn right I didn't." He snapped at her, looming over her, using every advantage he had against her. He didn't realise it right now, but that hot aching feeling swirling in his chest was hurt. Hurt and anger and something much more powerful that he didn't even want to name. "Now, are you sorry for throwing me out because you thought your secret was blown, or because you're not spawning yet?"

"Spaw…what?" She glared at him.

"Well, I knew there had to be some reason for you finally letting me fuck you, I just didn't figure you for being so cold blooded about it." He spat at her. "If you wanted a sperm donor all you had to do was ask." At her shocked expression he elaborated. "Yeah, there is only one Miya Clinic in the greater New Jersey area and guess what they specialise in? Babies!" He told her ashen face. "But I guess now you don't have to pay for all those expensive treatments and do any of that head standing when you've been drinking that nympho-whisky and spreading your legs for me. Tell me, am I the only runner or are there several--?"

_Smack!_

She was breathing hard, chest heaving and her expression livid. Her face was pale except for the spots of high colour flushing her cheekbones. House's already battered face stung under the onslaught of yet another angry blow to his bone structure.

"How dare you…you…if you really want to know I was thinking about having the treatment done! I had asked for an information pack to be sent out to me, I haven't even stopped taking the Pill yet!"

"Well, I hate to break this to you, Cuddles, but that whisky you drugged yourself with negates the effect of the Pill. So, you could already be incubating as we speak!"

Both of them fell silent at this proclamation. All colour abruptly drained from Cuddy's face. House's heart was hammering in his ears and his skin felt three sizes too small.

He watched her swallow in a convulsive movement.

"What?"

"You didn't know?" He demanded incredulously. She had to have known. He had shown her the lab results. Tawny had shown him and he had…

Not.

Shown.

Cuddy.

"I'd like you to go now." Her voice was hollow as she spoke. Her hands shook and she leant against the countertop for support. House watched her for a long moment, nodded once and then left the same way he had come in.

He walked for nearly a mile before he had the sense to call a cab to take him home. His leg ached all the way and he took another two vicodin to try and beat the sensation back. By the time he got back to his apartment and found the bulging envelope on his doormat, the now hauntingly familiar red scrawled writing strewn over the Hallmark parchment of the envelope paper, he was too damn tired to do anything about it other than throw yet another death threat straight into the trash.

Who'd want to hurt him?

House slumped onto his couch and reflected that he probably didn't need any help in that arena he was doing just fine on his own.


	18. Chapter 18

**Okies, this was hammered out in two hours flat because EVERYBODY and their raunchy aunts have been asking for an update on this and FINALLY inspiration struck (like a fucking pick-axe I can tell ya) at about six this morning (hey, who needs that fabled sleep thing anyway). **

**So after a long day of work, getting caught in the sodding arctic weather, going to the cinema and then squelching my way home, I sat down and beat this puppy out on the keyboard in time with Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars'?**

***if I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me?**

**And just forget the world?***

**I dunno if that's the right title but that was the song. Dunno if it came out in this, but I think it did. A lot towards the end. I'm quite pleased with this and I think the ladling of Nair Snark I gave it trimmed down the fluff a bit. **

**Unbeta'd all mistakes are mine and I hope ye like. **

**Phew!**

**Chapter 18: Like It Or Not**

"So, how long have you been together?"

Cuddy nervously gripped her mug of steaming tea between her palms and sat across the polished dining room table from one of the largest and most terrifying looking men she had ever seen. She should have known that Tawny McQueen's husband would be nothing less. She had called him, not knowing what else to do with the unconscious employee on her couch and he had arrived in short order in nothing less ostentatious than a fully military Hummer. The massive tank of a vehicle was now taking up both her driveway and half of her neighbour's. Somehow Cuddy doubted that Mr Meekle would be out to curmudgeon about it though. Michael McQueen was a tall, Maori, tattooed, pierced, ex-Marine and oddly quite beautiful in a purely masculine way.

He also liked tea but seemed to dislike conversation.

"Married or known each other?" This was by far the longest sentence that had come out of his pierced lips. He had a single ring through the middle of his full lower lip and a large bolt through his tongue. He had a habit of rattling the bolt along his teeth between sips of tea.

"Either." Cuddy shrugged helplessly. It was incredibly rare for her to be caught wrong footed by someone but opening the door to see this hulking man standing on her doorstep like some kind of tribal warrior lost in the wrong century had certainly thrown her. He arched a brow, tattoos rippling and the silver ring there winking in the light. A very large hand went to the perfectly straight raven black hair that hung over his shoulders and down his back. He tunnelled his fingers through his hair, hair that Cuddy knew most women would kill for, and huffed out a breath.

"I've known her for nearly…twenty years. We've been married for five."

"So Lorcain is…?" Cuddy clapped her mouth shut. Talk about prying.

"Oh, he's mine. I just didn't know about him for the first ten years of his life." Michael's huge fingers that were doing a marvellous job of engulfing the largest mug that Cuddy had, tightened on the thick ceramic until Cuddy thought it might crush to powder. "Tawny doesn't necessarily believe in sharing. Not when she feels she doesn't have to…or when she thinks it would be a 'burden'." He glanced up and through the archway to the living room, where they could both see Tawny still curled on the couch under the angora throw that Cuddy had found for her. He turned back to Cuddy with a slightly bitter smile. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to listen to this." He sat back in the solid mahogany chair that looked as delicate as matchsticks under his ranging frame.

"Helps to talk about things." Cuddy looked down into her tea and swirled it in her cup. "At least, so I've heard."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." Michael smirked at her and Cuddy lifted her eyes and smiled back. He was scary as hell, but once you got past all the ink, muscles and metal accoutrements, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

"Alright…" Cuddy glanced to the side, wondering how much she should say. How much she could say, then decided to just say it anyway.

"I've found myself in an unusual position where I have to turn to a colleague for a very odd kind of help." Michael looked at her with piercing whisky toned eyes and Cuddy found the next words spilling from her before she could stop them. "Basically, I've become addicted to an aphrodisiac and he's the only one I trust enough to sleep with to keep the symptoms under control." Michael's brows shot for his dark hairline but Cuddy had started and now she couldn't stop. "On top of all that he's one of the most difficult bastards in the world to deal with and, just when I found myself thinking that maybe this wasn't just some kind of god-awful oddball kind of 'therapy' to him, I find out he thinks I'm a cold hearted whore who may or may not be carrying his child though he has no wish to ever be a father or become attached to another member of the human race for anything more than the going rate for a hooker and a blowjob." Out of breath and out of courage, Cuddy brought her cup to her lips and gulped her tea down in an attempt, if not to just stop her talking, then maybe to drown her.

"Well, that's…certainly a pickle you've got yerself in there, love." Michael sipped his tea.

Cuddy smiled at the understatement of the year. "Isn't it though?" Another gulp of tea. "Your turn." She demanded and he had the grace to look discomforted.

"My wife's fighting a battle that's killing her from the inside out and I don't know how to help her or even if she'll let me." He gusted all the words out on one cavernous sigh and Cuddy's chest ached a little for him. It was one thing for her and House to be having these kinds of problems, they weren't a couple, they hadn't really chosen to be together, but Tawny and Michael were married to each other and Cuddy had the feeling that they were both 'till death do we part' type.

"Do you know when it started?" Cuddy asked gently.

"Nearly two years ago. She went to Bosnia on her tour of duty, her last tour she'd said. I don't think she retired from her last stint on the job quite the way she planned." Michael looked down at his large hands. They were nice hands. Callused and work worn, but strong and capable. The kind of hands other people put their lives in. "Something happened on the Op, something went wrong. Bad information or some cock up in administration had them dropped down in the middle of a fucking war zone. From what I could beat out of her XO, they were taken to a POW camp and…and they were tortured. For information they just didn't have. They were there on a recon mission. Part of a peace keeping patrol, handing out bloody food packs of all things!" A muscle ticked in his strong jaw. "I never got the details. She never let me have them. She wouldn't even let us into the hospital to see her in recovery, she had armed guards keep me out. Can you believe it? I'm her husband and she wouldn't even let me be there for her."

"Has she ever talked about it, or tried to?"

"Never. I think she's ashamed."

"Of what?!" Cuddy's voice was louder than she had intended and she quieted herself but asked anyway. "Surviving?"

"I think that's part of it. Mostly I think that she thought it was weak to have been caught, to have suffered, to have let her team down. She doesn't think she's strong enough anymore and it kills her."

"Michael," Cuddy looked down at her tea again, like it might offer some answers. "This might be hard to hear, but Tawny needs help. Professional help. These…behaviour patterns she's exhibiting are indicative of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and while it's early stages, the night terrors, the destructive tendencies, losing her sense of place…it's going to get worse if we don't do something about it now." Her voice was gentle but firm. She wasn't backing down on this. As a doctor, employer or…as a friend. She liked Tawny, liked that she had gone out of her way to help Cuddy despite Cuddy having not really welcomed her with open arms. Tawny deserved her help and Cuddy was going to give it whether she liked it or not.

"We?" Michael looked at her somewhat warily.

"What, did you think I wasn't going to help?" Cuddy snorted into her tea. "I worked too damn hard getting that woman's pay cheque to not get my money's worth."

Michael smiled gently, seeing through it without preamble.

"She's not going to make it easy." He warned her.

"I doubt that woman has ever done anything the easy way in her life." Cuddy glanced over at Tawny's still sleeping form. She narrowed her eyes a fraction. "Like someone else I know."

"She won't respond well to threats to tote her off to the loony bin." Michael scrubbed a hand over his jaw thoughtfully.

"Not referring to it as that might be a good start." Cuddy pointed out wryly.

"I'm just saying, I know her, the harder you push her, the harder she pushes back." He shrugged. "She doesn't do suggestions."

"How about orders?" Cuddy mused almost to herself and Michael straightened in his seat.

"You can do that?"

"I'm the Mean Queen Dean, I can do whatever I want." It was Cuddy's turn to shrug. "Revoking her surgical rotation would be a start, but there are a million and one other ways I can go about persuading her to see things our way." She glanced at Michael and saw his hopeful but sceptical expressions warring on his face.

"She's going to get better. We'll see to it."

"Must be nice to be so sure. I wonder if you'd feel the same way about your…colleague if he was going through something similar."

Cuddy glanced at him sharply and her fingers tightened on her mug.

"He already does." She spoke tightly. "Every day. Maybe he's never going to get better and maybe I'm deluding myself in thinking that I can ever be any help but…"Cuddy let that sentence tail off and thought hard for a moment, wondering if she was bullshitting Michael or, worse, herself and then made a decision. Her jaw tightened in determination and she looked back up to Michael with flint hard eyes. "But I've decided I'm not going to stop trying. He's stuck with me interfering in his life and keeping him from going completely off the deep end whether he damn well likes it or not."

Michael sat back in his chair and an odd little smile curled his lips.

"You know, I almost feel sorry for the bloke." His smirk widened to a smile. "Almost."

"Here's to that."

Cuddy lifted her mug and Michael toasted her back with a clink of ceramic meeting ceramic.

**$inister $cribe**

House limped back and forth in his apartment. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He lapped the coffee table, the couch, right through to the kitchen, gripping the worn planks of the table hard enough to crack his knuckles then back to the floor to complete another circuit. He'd been doing this for hours. Hours and hours of searing, agonising, leg-chewing-itself-off mind breaking pain that splintered him from the inside and had him bleeding from his own ragged edges. If the pain hadn't robbed him of any faith he might have had in any of the Gods above or below that might still be jaded enough to be listening to a tiny mortal, he might have prayed for it to stop. Dropped to his knees and begged for it. Pounded the floor until his knuckles bled and shouted at the ceiling in true evangelical zeal until his throat was raw with it.

But he didn't believe. Couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't, whatever, he didn't know anymore. All he had was the pain. His constant fucking companion, no matter what, no matter where.

His breath hissed out from between clenched teeth and he tried desperately to cling to some semblance of reason, some sliver of logic that would afford him refuge. Let him escape it for some handful of precious seconds.

But he couldn't.

Because of her.

She'd wrecked his reasoning. Stripped it from him and cluttered his Occam's razor of a mind with needy thoughts and wants that he couldn't afford. It was a matter of survival. His. He needed his rational retreat, his little island of crunching the numbers and playing the statistics that allowed him to save lives and be good at his job while failing miserably at everything else. Just like he'd failed with her.

How fucking stupid to believe, for one second, for one moment, for one heartbeat, that he could have lasted with her. That the thing burgeoning between them could have been anything but a passing fancy. A butterfly caught in a jar, bright and vibrant one day and then suffocated, wilted and dying the next. He had smothered it, that thing between them, the thing he couldn't even name because he didn't want to or was to afraid to, with his clumsy conclusions and mistrustful jabs at the truth. He'd made a mistake, fucked it up, stomped all over it and muddied it to boot. He'd hurt her and she'd rightfully pushed him out, locked him out of her life. Probably this time for good. No more reeling him in and protecting him from himself, no more putting up with him, no more standing between him and the board.

Damn her. Damn her for insinuating herself into his life like this. For taking care of him when he didn't want it. When he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Damn her for forcing humanity on him. For keeping him in contact with that swarm of stupidity that he so loved to loathe. For feeding him puzzles and titbits and keeping him interested in life when he should have long since been left to die.

Damn her.

And damn him for needing her.

House's leg abruptly buckled under him and he went crashing to the floor. He grunted in pain and clutched at the warped scar seething in molten hot pain that he couldn't claw out even if he wanted to. He lay half under the coffee table and ground his teeth together until he thought they were going to squeak out of his skull. He opened his eyes and, through the fuggy haze of pain, made out the shape of his phone, knocked askew from its cradle by his ungainly crash landing. He reached blindly for it and, after a couple of failed attempts, snagged it and clutched it down to his chest. Even that small effort cost him. Sweat beaded on his brow and slid down past his eyes and temples like tears. Maybe it was tears, difficult to tell when his entire nervous system seemed to have migrated to his thigh, poured gasoline all over itself and set itself alight.

He fumbled for the numbers, trying to dial, knowing he needed help now. He always called Wilson when it got like this. Too hard to stand, too difficult to fall and even worse to try and get up again. He knew this old dance between him and the agony well enough to know when he needed someone to cut in and take over dancing in the red hot iron shoes for a while.

His thumbs fumbled for the number but his body betrayed him again when they refused to remember the familiar digits. He tried for several minutes. Trying to shakily punch it in, but it refused to work because…because…

Because he didn't want Wilson.

House smeared a hand over his face and tried desperately to think of something, anything, to talk him out of what he was about to do. He thought frantically. Tried again to clunk out Wilson's number…but his fingers refused.

"Fuck it." He let his hands have their way and stamp out the number that they seemed so desperate to dance to. He dropped the phone against his ear and turned his face to the side so it lay along his jaw and both hands could go back to holding on to the wild ride that was the pain in his leg. He listened to the burring rhythm of the ring tone on the other end and wondered if she'd even spare him the time to answer.

God, he hoped so.

**$inister $cribe**

The knock on the door came a bare half hour later and House still lay on the floor, phone abandoned just over his shoulder and panting through the pain. He twisted to look at the door. It might as well have been miles away. He could make out the twin shadows of feet on the other side.

"It's open." He husked out into the darkness and another knock sounded. She hadn't heard. "It's open!" This time was barely louder than the first, but she must have heard him because her hand went to the handle and she pushed it open. He turned away from the light she spilled into his apartment and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't stand to look at her face. To see another set of disappointed emotions flourish over it. He heard her step into the apartment, hesitantly at first, not sure where he was. Felt her eyes land on him and listened, pathetically warmed when she slammed the door behind her in haste and hurried to his side, dropping to her knees.

"House." He turned back to her, eyes opening as her hand landed on his cheek. Ugh, he was so pitiful. He could rail, shout, scream, throw tantrums and insults and jibes at her and he'd always cleave to her. Always turn back to her. He couldn't help himself.

"Hi." As opening segues went, it wasn't fabulous, but it was the best he could manage.

"Did you fall?" She was cupping his head in her hands, fingers questing through his hair. Checking for damage. He lost himself in that for a moment and then remembered to answer.

"Just once. Didn't hurt anything except my ass. Wanna kiss it better?"

"Shut up, I'm still mad at you." She had her fingers at his pulse, watching her watch on her other hand.

"Then why'd you come?" The question was out his mouth before he could stop it and he noticed she lost count and had to laboriously start again.

"Because…you needed me." She shrugged one shoulder and muttered something to herself that sounded oddly like 'whether I like it or not'. She lifted his head onto her lap and looked down at him from upside down. Her hands rested on his shoulder and put all his focus into those points of contact to better distract him from the pain. "How bad?"

"We're sitting at a comfortable twelve at the moment." He closed his eyes as her hand came down on his forehead.

"You're burning up."

"With my face this close to the honey-pot it's hard not to." He opened one eye and saw her smile despite everything. Good to know her sense of humour hadn't perished with her tolerance of him…but she was here wasn't she?

What did that mean?

Did he want to know?

Could he stand to know if he didn't like the answer?

"Nice to know that you'll always be an ass." She slipped her arms under his shoulders and grunted a little with the effort of helping him up into a sitting position. He grasped at the couch and helped her to lever him up as best he could. He hated this. Being a cripple….being a cripple without her to help him would be worse though. He had to fix this. He didn't know how though and he wanted to howl in rage at it for being so fucking difficult. He wasn't good at this. He was good at being cold. Being remote and making decisions that other people couldn't, but that came at a price. That thing that other people had, that class that they'd all taken to get good at this kind of thing, he'd missed it. He'd been off getting high or, dissecting something or being better than someone. He didn't know if it was too late to learn it, or even if he was brave enough to try, but the other options scared him even more, so what choice did he have?

"What can I say? Yours is so huge that I just thought I had to keep it company." Oh yeah, real smooth, step in the ol' right direction there!

"Okay, shut up now, or I'm going to drop you just to see if you bounce." She lifted his arm and tucked her head and shoulders under it. "Come on, up." She commanded him and he scrambled, for once, to do as he was told. It was hard, harder probably because he didn't want to lean on her too heavily at the risk of crushing her or dragging her down with him if he fell.

See, he told his thumbs, this was why they should have called Wilson, he at least could haul his crippled ass up off the floor without risk of personal harm.

She snagged her bag up off the floor. He recognised the clink of glass vials coming from within and wondered what she'd brought with her to knock him out. Because that was what it was going to take. His Vicodin might as well have been tic tacs for all the good they did him.

They winced along the hall to his bedroom, it took them a while, mostly because he was mindful of not leaning on her too much and crushing her if he crashed again. She lowered him to the bed and he flopped back onto it with a long relieved groan. He was aware of her helping he legs up onto the bed and tugging the sheet over him. He tried to make some kind of comment about her mothering him but choked on it when he remembered what their last fight had been about. She sat beside him, oblivious to his inner panic at the mere thought of…that, and extracted a sterile syringe and a glass vial.

"So, what you giving me, doc?" House tried to keep things funny. It was either that or cry and he hadn't done that since he was eight so that was pretty unlikely. "The good stuff."

"Nah, this fell off a truck from Mexico. Got it on discount from eBay."

"Tax free?"

"Super Saver delivery too." She set the syringe aside and his eyes tracked it. Relief just on the other end of that needle. Hell, he was so pathetic he burned from it but the pain burned even hotter so he had no choice but to give in. Give in or get burned to nothing. She wrapped a tourniquet around his bicep and tightened it a little harshly. His head rolled back to face her and he was struck with the sudden need to touch her. Without giving too much thought to the hair-raising prospect of rejection, he reached out with his free arm and cupped her neck. She stiffened in surprise and turned into his thumb as he rubbed it against the corner of her jaw. Their eyes met and, after a torturous moment, hers softened a fraction.

"Sorry." He blurted.

"For what? I'm the one that's about to stab you."

"You know what. Just…sorry."

She smiled then, a tiny smile, but it was there. She leaned her cheek into his hand, for a fraction of a second, and then reached up to pull his hand down.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." She looked at him, saying it a little firmer that time.

"You don't want to…talk?" Not that he wanted to. With any luck she'd give him the special sauce and he'd conk out before they got to his feelings, or something equally as terrifying, but he felt he should humour her feminine tendancies. He wanted desperately to be back in the good books. Or the goodish books. Or wherever the hell it was she filed him in her life that wasn't utter hatred.

"Not when I'm about to pump you full of Dopamine, no." She suited action to words and speared the needle into his vein in one fluid practiced move. Any comments about her harpooning him like a drunken whaler died at the simple proficiency of it. She released the tourniquet and the freezing sensation of the menthol numbing drug clawed its way up his arm. If he'd had a choice, he'd have probably chosen anything but Dopamine, but it was probably the best thing she had to hand. She wouldn't have given him it otherwise. She might have been mad at him, but she wouldn't stick it to him like that (literally as it turned out). He felt the cool numbness spread through his body with every beat of his heart in the deep freezing process of the drug.

He shivered and she watched him carefully in the lamplight, clearing away her things. She reached snapped her bag closed, smoothed her hand over his forehead one last time and then rose to leave.

He grabbed her before he'd made the conscious decision to do so.

He lunged across the space separating them, wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her back down onto the bed. She made a muffled sound of surprise and her hands landed gently on his shoulders as he shamelessly clung to her, head resting on her lap and turned away from her, but his hand gripping his wrist vice-like behind her back. Now that he had a hold of her, he didn't know if he could let go.

"House, I have to…" Her hands went behind her back to his wrists, intending to pull him away.

"Lisa." His voice was muffled against the material of her skirt, his face turned from her and his arms tightened a fraction around her middle.

It was just her name.

Nothing more. No blazing compiling of reasons why she should stay, no level headed argument of why it was a good thing, no rational anything in it.

Just two slightly gasped syllables and a silent, desperate, question sandwiched in between them.

She was still for a long moment, just breathing around him.

Her hands moved from his wrists, skating up his arms and back around her body to his shoulders. Sliding down the line of his back and pulling her torso down after them until her cheek could rest on his shoulder blades.

"Greg, you want me to stay?"

His eyes snapped open and his hands relaxed at the small of her back, opening to splay palm first to her skin, slipping under the back of her sweater desperate for some skin-to-skin touching. He tried to say it. He really did but something else came out instead.

"I'm really cold."

"I know." She was still bent over him. They were both wrapped in each other so tight it was nearly difficult to breathe. She rubbed her hand in a small circle over the back of his heart.

"Keep me warm?"

"I don't have pyjamas." He could feel her smile against his back.

"Birthday suit is fine with me."

"Not with me. Not tonight." His arms tightened around her again.

"I have shirts. Tee shirts, sweaters, whatever, take one, take five. Have them all." He was finding it very difficult to shut up. Keeping her talking meant keeping her here.

She was quiet another long interminable moment and he thought he was going to have to padlock his arms around her just to keep her here because there was no way he was letting go any time soon.

"Any shirt I like?"

"Hmm." Well, he didn't know about that. "I demand visitation rights."

"Days or nights?"

"Nights, weekends and holidays."

"Doesn't leave a lot of me and shirt quality time."

"I'm difficult that way."

"Yeah, you are."

"Deal or no deal: one shirt in exchange for electric blanket services." He was beginning to shiver now. Man, he hated dopamine.

"Okay, but I get to pick."

"Hmm."

She sat up and he slowly, cautiously, released her a little. She didn't immediately up and away so he braced himself on his arms, hands planted on either side of her hips and looked into her small, slightly wistful looking smile and lent into her hand when she cupped his stubble roughened cheek. As soon as she let go he felt afloat in an arctic sea. Numb and frozen from the inside out. The bright side was his leg was down to a muted throbbing, the dull side was that he felt like he had ice water in his veins and an uncomfortably disembodied feeling wafting about in his head. He carefully sat back in the middle of the bed, feeling his way with hands that didn't strictly feel his own and easing back, propped against the headboard.

He watched her move to his chest of drawers, toeing off her heels with bare feet and little pink polished toenails resting on the floorboards. She rummaged unabashedly through his clothes, picking out and then rejecting shirts out of hand, she dug down, obviously looking for the answer to life, the universe and everything down there and finally tugged something dark out of the very bottom of the drawer.

"Not that one." He told her. She glanced over her shoulder and smirked at him.

"I like this one." His argument died in his throat when she stripped her sweater over her head, shimmied out of her skirt and dropped her bra over the foot of the bed. He was afforded a flash of luscious curves before they were covered by the dark grey tee shirt that engulfed her smaller frame and hung to mid thigh on her. The bright yellow lettering proclaiming 'I'm With Stupid' curving around her breasts since she dipped in and out where he didn't.

Not that he was complaining.

At all.

She padded across the floor towards the bed and crawled up over the side, tugging the duvet down and wriggling under it. She reached down to the foot of the bed and tugged the throw up over them too. House fumbled his way down the bed until he was cocooned up to his neck in covers and burrowed in pillows. She reached over and switched off the light.

In the dark, he could just make out the sensation of the mattress dipping as she wriggled towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her leg over his hips. His limbs were heavy and cold on the inside, but he looped them around her until they were practically the same body, a tangle of limbs and a unity of breathing that made it difficult to tell who stopped where and when the other started.

House buried his face in her hair, inhaled deeply and let the familiar scent warm him from the inside out. With such pleasing company, he shut his eyes, felt the region in his chest around his heart thaw that little bit more, and drifted down into the inky black of deep, dreamless, peaceful sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**IIIIIIIgggggggggg…..**

**And death. **

**Should really, really, really, really, REALLY be in bed, but instead I got in from work and wrote this for y'all because I was inspired and peeps were so nice in their last reviews. **

**See? They do help. **

**Ummm…yeah, apparently y'all on adultfan LOVE Tawny so she's the predominant focus of this chapter. I have no idea if I got the symptoms of PTSD right in this, or even portrayed a night terror accurately, but it's artistic licensing if it's wrong. **

**Hah, loophole.**

**Love and hugs, ciaooooo. **

**::hit the green button on your way out:: **

**Chapter 19: Dangerous**

Blood.

Lurid and red and sticky and all over her.

Whoever had said that people don't dream in colour had obviously never taken a gander inside Tawny McQueen's head.

She fought. She always fought, she didn't know how to do anything else. Lying back and accepting it wasn't an option. Couldn't be an option. Her hands were tied though, chained to the floor behind her back, straining her wounded shoulder. The bullet hole ragged and seeping more blood. It was getting infected. Beginning to burn. She knew that it would soon turn septic and then she'd be in danger of losing her arm. Her blood though. Mixing with her friends' on her uniform, caking in her skin, oiling in her hair changing it to a different shade of red. Seeping down over the white ban on her arm, bleeding over the red cross there. The same white band that had saved her from being executed like the rest of them.

The blood was thick on the floor. Inches thick. She'd had no idea that people could bleed that much. It must have been nearly a hundred litres by now. It pooled around her. The rats played in it. Scampering this way and that and chasing the ripples they caused.

The only still thing in the room was her comrades.

Their bodies slept around her. Throats gaping, some with their stomachs slit and shining sausage entrails spread over the floor. The rats picked at them, squeaking and fighting amongst themselves at the choicest cuts. The smell was horrific, the first couple of days it made her gag. Vomit until her throat was raw and there was nothing left to bring up then the joy of dry heaves after that. She became immune though. To the smell anyway. She had the feeling that she'll never be clean again though.

The door opened.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Light spilled over her, harsh and too damn bright, she slammed her eyes shut. Pain stabbed at her retinas. She twisted awkwardly, hiding her face in her good shoulder as best she could. She knew it was only going to get worse. Being left with them in their tomb is just the beginning of the torture. There's still three more left to kill. She began to shake.

Shivering hard, her whole body trembling so hard her teeth rattled and her bones ached with it. She couldn't stop. She didn't want to. It was a distraction. Something to ground her in the real world, if her body still hurt, if she still shook, if she was still afraid then some part of her was still sane. If she was still appalled then she hadn't gone mad yet.

It was her only benchmark, her only anchor in this dark hole of a room where they killed her friends, her team-mates and left them with her to see how long it took her to break.

They dragged one of them in. his uniform grubby and almost as bloody as hers. He hit the floor with a meaty smack, his head clattering off the concrete. The rats scurried away, but not far, they can smell their next meal. Waiting to tear at him with little red bites.

"Colonel?"

Oh fuck, it was Benson. He was only eighteen. So like Lorcain, in personality and in looks. Same kind eyes, same laugh, they could have been cousins. She answered him quickly in French.

"Yes, Benson, it's me. I'm right here." She strained towards him, her eyes adjusting to the dark far better than anyone else's. She could see that his arm was broken, compound fracture, bone sticking out of his elbow. He'd been beaten badly, his face swollen and misshapen, one of his teeth was missing, several fingers shattered, his foot lying at an odd angle. "Don't be afraid."

No need, really, it would all be over for him soon anyway.

"I'm not." He rolled onto his back with difficulty and looked up with contempt at his captors. "These pigs can't cook worth shit though."

That earned him a kick in the gut.

He choked for a moment and she screamed at them. She strained against her bonds until she was in danger of yanking her shoulder out of its socket. The foulest curses she knew spilled from her mouth on a blue streak of invective in multiple languages.

The backhand across her face exploded white hot behind her eyes. She couldn't remember how many times she had been hit like that in the last couple of days. It had all blended into one massive beating. She couldn't tell where the pain ended and she began anymore.

They grabbed Benson by his hair and dragged him up to kneel opposite her, inches from where she knelt. His blood misted over her face with every ragged pant past his bloodied lip. Her hands fisted to knuckles behind her back, so tight the bones crackled. She knew what happened next. Knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. Knew there was nothing she could do to save poor Benson.

"Tell us what you know." They loomed over her, familiar nightmares by now.

"I don't know anything." Tawny answered them as calmly as she could. Which wasn't a whole hell of a lot.

"He'll die if you don't tell us."

"You'll kill us all anyway." She spat at him.

"Where are the rebels?!" A hand in her hair as well. Wrenching her head back until the muscles in her neck twanged. She grunted in pain.

"I told you; I. Don't. Know."

"You are killing your men." The voice whispered in her ear. Low and sibilant like a snake. It made her insides clench and freeze all at the same time.

"Believe me, you dickless piece of shit, if I had that knife you'd scream for weeks and beg for death before I was through with you." She snarled through her gritted bloodied teeth. All she had left was her defiance. She had, academically anyway, accepted the fact that she was going to die there, along with her unit. Thousands of miles away from her family. From Lorcain with his ready grin, from that stunning husband of hers and her baby girl. Her precious little Maddy.

She shut those thoughts down. She couldn't think about them now. Couldn't let them become a weakness. Couldn't let them be used against her, they wouldn't want that.

Another vicious slap cracked her face to the side. She spat blood, more than used to the taste of it by now. Hair was wrenched from her scalp and furled in a gentle curl down to mix with the blood on the floor.

"You must know something! Why were you sent here!?" He got right up in her face, his spittle flying over her cheek. She grimaced in disgust.

"I told you, we're on a peace-keeping mission. Are you deaf or just stupid? How many times do I have to say it for it to get through that thick skull of yours?" She turned back to him, meeting him eye to eye, glare for glare, her pride would let her do nothing less and pride was rapidly becoming the only thing she could cling to.

"I will kill him if you do not speak!" The knife appeared, finally, twitching at Benson's throat. She looked up and met his eyes. So young. He didn't deserve to die like this. None of them had.

He gave the tiniest of nods, eyes hard as flint.

"Give the bastards nothing."

She swallowed hard, knowing what came next, but never allowing them to think that they were in control, she would give the order. She looked up at her captors and said in her best Colonel's voice.

"You heard him."

The knife sliced. Whisper silent, not like in the films where it squelched and ripped. No, a real knife is much quieter than that, the drama of death in the silence rather than pulpy sound effects. Her head dipped and her eyes closed just as the first gout of arterial spray splashed over her face and neck. Just like all the others.

They let go of his body. Let him topple forwards onto her, smearing the blood deeper into her skin. They laughed as he fell twitching across her lap. Eyes staring up at the ceiling, mouth working once, twice, before gaping still and his eyes turning glassy like a doll's. The light leaving them.

She held herself still. Painfully still. She had to wait. She would not let them see.

One of them kicked her hard in the stomach before he left. It was the one that wanted to rape her. She huffed as all the air left her lungs. His comrade shoved him roughly out the door. Apparently there were things even dictators wouldn't allow. Raping medics was one of them, though she wondered how long that rule would stand if she continued to withhold 'information' . Tawny tried to gain her breath once more and was almost glad that he had stunned her. She was bent double until the door had locked behind them. She listened to them march down the corridor. Listened to the howls of the other prisoners as they were taunted by the passing guards.

Minutes passed marked only by the steady drip-drip-dripping of Benson's life blood ebbing from his body and the scampering feet of the rats.

When she was sure they were gone. When no one but the bodies and the rats would hear her.

She screamed.

Screamed so hard that her voice cracked. Until her face turned red under the blood and then paled out whiter than a ghost. Screamed until her throat tore. Until she folded over herself and her forehead came down to rest on Benson's rapidly cooling shoulder.

She screamed until she thought she'd never stop.

She was still screaming when she bolted upright in bed, two years later and thousands of miles away.

**$inister $cribe**

Michael took the fist to his jaw in good graces but caught the next one before it slammed into the bridge of his nose. His huge hand engulfed Tawny's smaller one and stopped her from unwittingly beating the living daylights out of him. Unfortunately it did nothing to calm her whatsoever. In fact, it appeared to do the opposite. She screamed and swore again, locked in whatever dark closet of her mind that the dreams took her to. She fought like a wildcat, she always had. She managed to rake her nails down his face again, narrowly missing his eye and nearly taking out his lip ring before he managed to pry her hand away.

"Tawny, wake up." He wrapped his much larger arms around hers and crushed her to his chest. It would do nothing to calm her, but she was going to hurt him or, more importantly, herself, if he couldn't contain her. "Wake up, love."

She cursed again, fluently and at length. In several different languages, quite a few he didn't recognise. She twisted in his grip and screamed in French invective that only Europeans can fully pull off, terrified out of her mind, but still able to cast aspersions on his parentage and accuse him of unspeakable acts with farm animals.

"Daddy…?"

Michael turned and saw Maddy standing in the doorway. Holding onto the tatty Bear with one hand and stretching up to clasp the door handle in her other hand. She looked terrified.

"Mummy!" She ran forward, confused, not knowing which parent was hurting who and tried to reach for Tawny.

Tawny's eyes landed on her daughter, running at her, arms outstretched and panic flooded her face.

"AWAY!" She twisted violently out of Michael's grip and sprawled backwards across the bed, scrambling away desperately. "GET IT AWAY!" She swiped at the air in front of her as if to bat her daughter away and Michael snatched Maddy out of the way before Tawny could break her in half. Something he knew she was perfectly capable of doing. She wasn't pulling her punches. She genuinely thought her life was in danger.

"Lorcain, get in here and take your sister!" Lorcain was already running down the hallway.

"Dad, what the hell is going on?" Lorcain caught Maddy to his chest and glanced past his father to see Tawny huddled in the corner of the bed, hands fisted in her hair, rocking back and forth and muttering unintelligibly in French to herself in words far too fast to track.

"Take Maddy out of here and for God's sake, don't let her see her mother like this anymore." Michael shoved his children gently down the corridor, turned back into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

Tawny jerked hard at the gunshot…no, not a gunshot. Her head snapped up and she frowned, her fingers loosening in her hair, sliding down the sides of her face and coming to rest on her knees.

Michael stood by the door, back braced against it, massive chest heaving with every breath. He was bruised. A split lip trickled blood onto his chin, nail marks raked down over one eye and his cheek through his tattoo and there was a hollow look in his eyes.

"Do you," Michael started and then cut himself off. He shut his eyes and inhaled a deep and slow breath. When his eyes opened again his rarely seen and quite awful temper was blazing in them. "Do you have ANY idea what you've just put your children through? What you've just put me through?"

Tawny was shivering with no memory as to why.

She shook her head mutely.

"This wasn't a rough customer, Tawny." Michael pointed at his face. "That was you." He moved towards the bed and she shrank back.

Wait. Cowering from Michael? He'd never hurt her. She wasn't afraid of him. She straightened her spine, folded her legs under herself and licked her lips nervously. She fumbled for the glasses at her bedside and jammed the shades down over her nose. Any barrier right now was a good one. She'd hide behind whatever she could get.

"I don't remember…"

"Of course you don't." He sat down at her side and rested his hand on her ankle. Like he wanted to touch her, but was reluctant to pull her into his arms. Pain knifed through her at the thought. God, she was losing him, to this. To this of all things. This thing she had sworn she would beat.

"Michael…?"

"No, I'm tired of it. Of you suffering by yourself and lying to me about it. You've been getting worse for months and…for some FUCKED UP reason I allowed it. Well no more." Something hard had come into his eyes and Tawny felt afraid. Not of him hitting her, he would never raise a hand to any of his family, but he could break her heart and right now it was feeling particularly fragile.

"Don't…" She didn't know what she was pleading for but she desperately hoped he did.

"I can't do it anymore, love." He reached up and cupped her face. She gripped his wrist, holding him to her. Clinging to him. "I can't just sit here and watch you kill yourself over this. You're falling apart and you refuse to see it. You weren't ready to go back to work and I knew it, but you were wasting away just sitting at home, what the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Michael, it's not your fault, I…"

"Shh, love. I know it's not my fault but more importantly, it's not yours either…but it soon will be."

She swallowed hard. No, he couldn't mean that.

"You need help. More help than I can give you. More help than you can give yourself. You need…Tawny, you need to go see a doctor about this. I know you hate being a patient but, Goddamnit, you nearly took Maddy's head off a minute ago." At Tawny's look of utter horror he quickly moved to reassure her. "She's fine, I stepped between you but she just saw her mother move to kill her and scream at her like she was a monster. Can you hear her crying in the next room?"

She nodded. Tawny's eyes were bright, tears silvering at the corners of her eyes. Her head hung down.

"Oh God…!" She sobbed into her hand and tried to hold the sound back. He tugged at her wrist, pulling her hand away, making her cry out loud.

"You need this, love. You need to grieve. You've got to do something because…you're dangerous. I might not be there the next time and then what? Are you willing to risk your children for the sake of your pride?"

Her head snapped up and rage flashed in her eyes. "How dare you even suggest…?"

"Well, it was your pride that stopped you from calling your son's father for ten years."

She reared back as if struck and laughed bitterly.

"That well never runs dry, does it?" She snapped at him. He didn't react other than to tighten his jaw and steel his resolve. It was taking all his courage to screw up the nerves to say this. He was taking a chance. A massive gamble. He didn't know whether or not she would tolerate what he was about to threaten her with.

"Tawny…you know I don't care about that."

"Then why say it?"

Fuck, he could never stand to see her cry.

"Because I need to make you listen. I need to make you know that I'm serious. I didn't realise how bad it was until this morning but…you're dangerous. To me, to our kids. Tawny, if you have another one of these episodes and come across either Cain or Maddy…you'd break them."

She shook her head hard in denial. Tiger coloured curls tumbling wildly about her face and shoulders. "No. Never."

"Yes. Nearly today." He gripped her shoulders and pulled at her until she was tucked into him, cradled against his chest and curled on his lap. He held tightly to her shoulders, never wanting to let her go and terrified that he might have to.

"Tawny, you need to do this because, if you don't…" He swallowed hard and made himself say it. He had to. For him, for her, for all of their sakes he had to make her do this. "If you don't get help, I'm going to go…and I'll take the kids with me." She clung to his neck and he hated himself when he felt her tears pour down over his chest.

**$inister $cribe**

House lay in his bed feeling immeasurably content. His leg ached, but nowhere near the agony it had been last night and it was all to do with the curvy living electric blanket that he had sprawled over his chest and tangled around his leg. Her head was cushioned on his arm and his fingers were sifting through her curls. He enjoyed the silky feel of them around his fingers, but he'd deny it if ever asked. His other hand held a German medical journal and he was reading it intently, having been researching this particular article for several weeks. He was considering broaching the ramifications with his medical proxy.

As soon as she woke up that was.

She made a small sound and smooshed her face closer into his chest. The barest bones of a smile shaped his mouth and his arm slipped lower to curve around her waist, resting over low her belly. His jaw tightened as his hand stayed relaxed, rubbing small circles just below her navel with the pad of his thumb.

Holy shit, what if she was spawning?

Not just she, though, them. He couldn't deny his part in this. Did he want to? It would be easier but…

But denying whatever they had begotten together would mean denying her and he didn't particularly want to do that. Sure, it would be the easiest thing to say that she had got what she wanted and would be delivering a bouncing baby brat in approximately nine months time and that he wanted nothing further to do with it other than to help her out with the infamous second-trimester hormonal urges.

He'd never been the one to go for the easy route though.

He still didn't know how he (go on, use the word you bastard, you're old enough and ugly enough to have these conversations, even if it is just in your own head) felt about being a possible (this word too, go on) father. His own dad hadn't exactly been winning awards for his parental skills. In fact, he had been a domineering, remote bastard who had alternately terrorised, brutalised and shaped his only son's behaviour. House firmly believed that a great deal of his stubborn personality could be shared with his father. If his dad hadn't been so determined to beat the individuality out of him, House never would have clung to it so strongly. That, in no way, meant that House approved of what his father had done to him or that he thought it had been a good thing. He didn't know how he really felt about it.

To others it would have been abuse and to House it had definitely been hard…but he'd never had anything else. He'd never had a nice dad to compare his own father to. Essentially he'd never known any better and he supposed it was just as well. He'd been cynical enough as a kid without knowing what he was missing out on.

If he and Cuddy…propagated…would the kid be better off without him?

On the one hand, they would always miss out on having a father (they had fucking better anyway, if there was going to be any alpha male in the Cuddy Casbah it was freaking well going to be HIM) but on the opposite appendage, House's own experiences had proved that having no dad at all could be preferable over a shitty one.

Which was worse though? House didn't want to fuck up this, as of yet, hypothetical kid. He actually liked kids, as much as he could like anyone in the general populace, he supposed. In his view, they were the only honest critters out there. The world hadn't had a chance to screw with them yet. He would hesitate to say that it was their innocence that he liked because that sounded a little too creepy, even for him, but it was the way they…didn't judge. They didn't have any preconceived notions. They were fresh little minds and he liked that.

He thought.

Damn, it was too early in the morning for this introspective bullshit. If Cuddy didn't wake up soon he was going to have to stage an intervention on himself.

"Mmm…what's Ketamine about?"

House jumped a little and jostled her with a disgruntled murmur from the back of her throat. Speak of the she-devil and she shall awake.

"It's just something I've been reading up on." He set the journal aside.

"How are you feeling this morning?" She was still have asleep against his chest. Slow to wake up, all sleepy kittenish and mussed. He couldn't resist. He tugged her up and over his chest so she was sprawled over him, loosely straddling him.

"Hmm, that good, huh?" She smirked against his chest and his hands stroked down the shallow trench of her spine. God, she was gorgeous.

And all his.

For now anyway.

House frowned and brushed that thought aside. That status would not be changing any time soon if he had anything to say about it. He reached for her chin and tilted her face up to his. He had the intention of checking her pupils to see if they were dilated but somehow ended up kissing her hot and hard instead.

"Mmmm…" She purred into his mouth. "Good morning to you too." She wrapped her arms around his neck and studied his expression. "What's up?"

"You mean aside from the obvious?" He rolled his hips up against hers with a lecherous intent.

"That goes without saying. The trouser-cane is ALWAYS up." She propped her chin on her hand and her elbow on his chest. "Seriously, you've got thinky-thinky face on."

He thought about how to say what he needed to. For too long apparently. Her eyes dropped away from his and she moved to push herself away from his chest.

"Hey, if you don't want to tell me then that's fine…"

"No, I just…" He wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her close. "Damnit, woman, you screw me in every which way, you know that?" He huffed at her.

"You know, I think I'm flattered."

"She-devil."

"Gimp." She shot back and he grinned. Only she could say that and have it come of as affectionate.

"But_ hung_ gimp."

"And _stacked_ she-devil." She smirked at him.

"True, true," his hands quested under his stolen shirt and trailed ticklish and mischievous up her sides. She squirmed a little. "All true." He mused.

"Stop distracting me and start talking." She was trying to be stern but the breathy quality to her words had him smiling broadly and rolling her under him.

"Okay, you sure? My mouth could be put to_ so_ many better uses." He demonstrated by kissing his way down her throat.

"House." She gripped his head and pulled him up to look at her. "Greg." She stroked his rough cheek and smiled softly. "I know you're thinking about doing something stupid and possibly life threatening, that's the only reason for that look being on your face, but I'd really like it if you'd tell me what it is. Give me a little time to steel myself against it. At the risk of sounding like a hopelessly feminine female…I'd like it if you'd talk to me."

"Cuddy." He reached up and pushed a stray curl out of her face. Studying the silky strands wound around his tapered fingers. "Lisa. It is stupid, kind of dangerous and maybe the _tiniest_ bit life threatening but you ARE a hopelessly feminine female. It's one of your best qualities." To emphasise his point he dipped his head to her chest and rubbed his face there gratuitously. She chuckled deep in her throat in a honeyed sound that he liked. "And I'll tell you all about it once I've finished sexing you down."

"I'm not overly sexed up, you know."

"I know, give me a chance, woman!" He pulled at the now joint-custody tee shirt and yanked it up over her head. "Honestly, kids today, SO impatient."

She stilled under him and he cursed himself silently but at length.

"Lisa…" He didn't know what he was going to say next but she saved him by putting a finger over his lips.

"Don't, Greg, straying into dangerous territory. We can talk about that later. Right now, I believe there was some sexing up to be done?" She stretched her arms over her head and had the desired result of drawing his attention right back to her uplifted breasts. She watched his eyes glaze a little and realised that she'd accomplished her mission and put off a subject they both weren't ready to broach yet for another little while. His head dipped down to her again, his tongue swirling around a nipple, her head kicked back and she moaned low and needy.

Crisis averted.

Dangerous territory clearly marked and mutual agreement of staying beyond its borders for the time being reached.

Thank god, now she could get down to that delicious business of getting sexed up so he could go to the trouble of sexing her down.

She smirked and wrapped her fingers in his hair on another moan.

Who said avoidance couldn't be a good thing?


	20. Chapter 20

**Don't say I'm not good to you.**

**Very very disturbed. Just found out that my aunt likes the Twilight saga, then snapped at my best mate because it pissed me off so much. This is what a crisis of faith feels like. I didn't think I could be related to anyone like that. **

**What the hell?**

**Review me and make me feel better. **

**And when I get published y'all hafta buy the book so I can get higher sales than that Meyer tit and then lord it over her stupid self. **

**If anyone tries to leap to the defence of the Twilight Saga I will do real and serious harm to them. **

**I shit you not. **

**Chapter 20 – Bake Sale Not Required**

"You've done WHAT?!"

Cuddy looked up calmly from her paperwork and blinked languidly at her favourite misanthrope's pet surgeon.

"You're off rotation." She restated.

Tawny opened her mouth, stood like that for a moment and then clapped it shut again. Her jaw clicked and her teeth ground. She surged up out of her seat and spun away from Cuddy, storming towards the door and then whirling back in a towering rage that was very nearly quite frightening.

"You can't do that!"

Cuddy just arched a brow and sipped from her mug of tea. Her expression very clearly spoke of 'oh really?'.

"You mustn't be able to do that." Tawny faltered now. Less sure of herself. "Surely a breach of contract. My job title is surgeon. I must be able to commit surgery, no?"

"The only committing you're doing is yourself and into the psyche department." Cuddy told her simply. This was the first real time that she'd had to square off against Tawny and, Cuddy had to admit, Tawny wasn't a disappointing opponent in the slightest. The only other person that gave her as much grief was House. Tawny McQueen in a fit of temper was quite the thing to behold.

Her glasses were sharp angled red lens which leant her face a demonic countenance. Cuddy's face rather eerily reflected back at her twice over every time their gazes clashed. Her hair was wild about her head in that tiger tumbled mane of hers and every line of her tall athletic frame quivered with the urge to do harm.

It occurred to Cuddy, rather belatedly, that she had just pissed off a very dangerous woman who happened to be quite unstable right now.

"I do not need a…a…" Tawny was so damn near apoplectic that she had completely forgotten the word in English for what she was trying to say. This, naturally, just exacerbated her mood and made her want to maim something even more.

"Shrink." Cuddy supplied helpfully.

"One of those!" Tawny damn near bellowed and Cuddy flicked imaginary dust from her desk.

Supremely unimpressed.

"You don't like it, go somewhere else." Cuddy folded her hands on her desk. "That is, if anywhere else will take you once I let it slip that you're in need of a psyche eval to confirm or deny the diagnosis of PTSD and are refusing to submit to one."

Tawny growled.

An actual low and lethal snarl, complete with bared teeth and a crackling of bones as every single muscle in her body tensed in readiness to spring.

Cuddy wondered idly if security could get in here before Tawny killed her or if she'd even have the chance to alert them before she met her untimely demise.

"You wouldn't…" Tawny's chest heaved as she tried to regain some semblance of control.

Cuddy was quietly amazed, if she were honest. Aside from being overcome with a towering inferno of irate temper, Tawny gave absolutely no outward signs of being stressed, post traumatically or otherwise.

"I would, have and did." Cuddy smiled congenially at her. "Take it or leave it."

"So…" Tawny looked about herself as if trying to summon help from the empty air of the room. "If I…submit," she looked like she actually retched a tiny bit as she said it, "to this evaluation, I can be put back to my work?"

"If you follow the prescribed course of action that may or may not result, then yes. You can go back to slicing and dicing with the best of them."

Tawny flinched a tiny bit at Cuddy's word choice and Cuddy sipped her tea in satisfaction. She took no pleasure in flinging the other woman's phobia in her face but, if it got her to do what she had to do and if it confirmed her diagnosis even more solidly, then she was perfectly willing to go and get a blood pack and spray it all over her if it came to it.

That, and she liked her little victories a tiny bit.

Evil dictator that she was.

Tawny's shoulder slumped and she looked dejectedly at Cuddy.

"Must I?"

Cuddy nodded firmly and Tawny spun without another word, striding from the office and leaving the door hanging open behind her.

**$inister $cribe**

House was surfing the internet and staring at article after article about a certain special K without taking in a single damn word of it.

His mind was on Her.

Goddamn woman and her infernal cluttering of his life.

His fingers drummed on the table top and he considered how to put his latest plot into action.

He needed to know.

Pregnancy was nothing to be trifled with, after all. Impending fatherhood was nothing to be snickered at either. If there was a tiny bundle of cells playing the parasite inside his favourite touch tummies playmate, then he decided that, not only was it a need to know affair, but that he definitely needed to know.

Problem was…she didn't want to acknowledge this little zygote of a problem between them.

They were under the strict regime of a ceasefire and any careless meddling on his part blew up the whole peace treaty and landed him squarely back in the trenches.

He was all for fighting, spiced up his day nicely, kept things lively, but he was rather fond of rolling over in the middle of the night and finding her under is arm. She didn't seem to mind tangling herself about him either. Anything further than that…well, he'd had enough grown up conversations with himself already today and he needed to pace himself. Best not to get spooked about the whole maturity thing. Ironically, baby steps were the way to go.

It was at times like this, when he was at a complete loss at what to do (few and far between though they were), that House asked himself on question.

What would Batman do?

House felt that any man who can think his way around Superman, beat the shit out of him and then live to tell the tale, was worth taking notes from. He was just a dude (albeit with absurd dress sense) that was prepared beyond belief for any given situation. House could identify with that, even if he did prefer to fly by the seat of his pants most of the time. There was a lot to be said for having a decent brain in your skull and knowing how to use it.

That and the Batmobile.

That, AND he'd done the fatherhood thing too!

Okay, so he'd raised a fellow vigilante, but better that than an introverted psychopath in a purple suit with clown make up on.

Batman would do some research. Know his enemy and get the kryptonite ring out of storage. He'd have contingencies on contingencies and know his enemy better than they knew themselves.

House was beginning to think that he'd stretched the metaphor to breaking point and that he could do without all this parental nonsense running about his head.

_Batman_ had never had to deal with a pregnant woman.

Yeesh.

Babies.

Yikes, multiple births!

That was another thing. Did the Cuddy women spawn litters? What were they like when gestating? He'd need a comprehensive list of familial symptoms if he was going to have a successful diagnosis and enough evidence to warrant the bloodwork he needed. If he could convince her to at least pee on a stick then he could manage to wait the prerequisite minute, he supposed.

He considered various ways how to just take what he had wanted but, then, that hadn't exactly given her the jollies the last time and, for once, he'd been entirely innocent of any snooping. Through mail or otherwise.

Damn it, should have taken the chance while it had presented itself. See, this was why he didn't have scruples. Got in the way of his answers.

He needed a serious family history going on here.

Medical records were a problem, ever since he'd let it slip that he knew his little partypant's password she'd had it on a rotating string of numbers and letters that she seemed to pull out of the ether and then change whenever the fancy took her.

So, hacking into the system and just having a look to see if she came from prolific breeding stock was out. Besides, that didn't give him the nitty gritty details that he needed anyway. He needed to know about the swollen ankles, the morning sickness and the cravings for peanut butter and jelly on halibut in the middle of the night…ew.

The way he saw it, he had three options; out and out ask her if she'd just take the damn test, pretty please as a favour to him for some precious peace of mind, find and bribe a spy who would do it for him, go the treacherous and well travelled route of snooping through her rash and taking what he wanted anyway or…or…he supposed he could always call her mother.

House eyed the phone and something very like the voice of reason (or common sense) started wailing in the back of his head in a sound vaguely reminiscent of an air raid siren.

House reached for the phone and then let his hand drop.

No, she'd kill him.

He picked up the handset, surreptitiously checking about himself for the wicked witch's flying monkeys, and then slapped his fingers on the tab to cut the dial tone from his ear.

If she ever found him out, she'd have him shoved through the meat grinder in the cafeteria and served as Tuesday's Chicken Surprise…_if_ she found out.

The voice of reason began to weep quietly somewhere in the corner of his brain.

He punched in the area code.

He was on the way to hell. Not even along that nice road of good intentions either. His intentions were thoroughly self serving and manipulative.

He squinted and tried to remember Mama Cuddy's house number.

He wasn't going to the nice part of hell. He was going to the gnarled Bronx part of hell, where the devil did drive by shootings and the liquor stores were always sold out of whiskey.

House was startled into dropping the handset back into the cradle when his fellow announced herself with a clatter from the door and an angry click of expensive alligator skin heels.

Tawny stormed across the room and threw herself into the chair opposite his desk. Her hands gripped the armrests until her knuckles whitened. She seethed quietly a moment and then looked up at him.

"So," he folded his hands together and tried to look congenial. "How did it go?"

"She says that I am not to do surgery until I go to the head doctor." Her voice was stilted, obviously having to think a bit too much about English to be as fluent as she usually was.

"You want to go?"

She glared at him.

House considered a long moment. He could get her out of this. He _could_ march downstairs to Cuddy's office and demand that he get his surgeon back. He _could_ make this easier on her. Let her hide from it.

He could do that.

Or he could actually help her.

"Tough. Get yourself an appointment. Pick a shrink, go through the motions, get yourself signed off. I need a surgeon that's willing to do nuts things for me and you're all there is." He sat back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head.

"You're not going to get me out of this?"

"Why would I? I'm the one that diagnosed you. You're much more valuable to me when you're not having a nervous breakdown."

"I am not going to…"

"Get in a bar fight and then flip out when you realise you've been bleeding?" House snapped at her. "Oh yeah, you've already done that."

"So I'm not in perfect health!" Tawny surged to her feet and prowled away from him, hugging her arms about herself. "You are hardly one to cast stones on that subject."

"It doesn't stop me from doing my job." He said after a long moment of crushing hypocrisy. "I can still function. _You_ are coming apart at the seams." He flicked his cane at her for emphasis.

"I…non…" Tawny struggled for the words.

"See? You're struggling to remember English. Tawny, you know _five_ languages. Fluently. The easiest one is tripping you up. What happens when you get into surgery and have the same feeling holding a guy's heart in your hand?"

Her colour dropped at the mention of that and she gripped the chair back. Her knuckles cracking and whitening. She looked hunted. Trapped. Everyone was shoving her into a decision that she knew was wrong. Every fibre of her being rebelled against it. She wanted nothing more than to start screaming and tearing at things with her bare hands.

House knew that feeling.

"Tawny…"

She looked up at him balefully. Her shoulders slumped, her spine curled in defeat. She was a shadow of her former imposing self. House felt a flash of something very much like compassion and told himself that it was just indigestion. He was just doing this so that she would go along and get treatment like a good little frog.

"Eight years back, a guy…" House trailed off and wondered why the hell he was playing this out like it was someone else. It was him. It always had been him and it was about time he took a little bit of ownership of that. "When I got the infarction in my leg, the smart thing to do was to amputate. Made sense in every single other case that I'd ever come across with the same circumstances except…it was _my_ leg."

Tawny slowly sat down on the seat. She was still folded in on herself, elbows resting on her knees and hands wringing between them, but she was looking up at him with a faint kindling of something in her eyes.

"It was my leg, damn it, and I didn't want anyone taking it from me." House sat back in his chair and thumped his cane against the floor. "Maybe it was vanity, maybe it was fear or pride or any other one of those stupid useless emotions…but I refused. I was so dead set against that, even when they forced the procedure on me, they were only brave enough to take a piece of me when they should have taken the lot." House seethed quietly for a moment in the white hot rage against what could have been. "Well, you know the rest. It didn't work out so damn well for me, did it?"

"You think this will cripple me?" She said, her voice the smallest thing he had ever heard.

"I think it could kill you."

Her shoulders hunched a little more.

"I'm afraid."

"I know."

"Come with me?"

House's eyes flew up at that and met hers. Her glasses were tilted down in a rare moment of real eye contact. He opened his mouth to go and tell her to get her husband, her son, someone else, someone more suitable to go with her and hold her hand…but then it occurred to him that hand holding was the last thing she needed. She needed someone ruthless to make sure she went through with this. Someone to poke and prod her and bar the door when she tried to run.

House could do that.

He could be a mean bastard better than anyone he knew.

"Sure." He levered himself to her feet and limped around the desk. When she hesitated to follow him he reached out and gripped her arm. He dragged her reluctant form from the office and down the hall towards the elevator. She needed to do this and he needed to help her get it done.

Change was awful. It was horrible and violent and uncomfortable and made you want to claw your eyes out, but it needed to happen. Tawny needed to go to the shrink. She needed to finally talk about whatever the hell had happened to her out there in the big bad world. She needed it.

He needed to help her.

Maybe he needed to change a little bit too. Maybe that would make things a little easier with Cuddy.

He shoved Tawny into the elevator and punched the button for the right floor with his cane. Making sure to bar the exit with it as he did so. She looked at him sullenly, more than a little frightened and then resolved to hang in the back of the elevator in the vain hope that he wouldn't be able to punt her out when they arrived. He wasn't going to back down this time though.

He was going to see this through no matter what.

His…his friend needed him to.

House looked at her sideways and wondered if he hadn't been doing some of that changing business already.

**$inister $cribe**

"Hey."

Cuddy looked up with surprise and blinked when she saw him towering over her. She hadn't even heard him come in the office door. She told herself it was because she had been absorbed in the scintillating spreadsheets cluttering her desk…not in the thought of the drugstore bought test that was stuffed into the bottom of her purse.

"Uh, hi." She was at a loss for what to do when he just stood over her. Should she stand up too? Was he going to sit down? The man offered her nothing but questions. It was infuriating. "Where have you been? I haven't heard a peep out of you all afternoon."

"I was with a psychiatrist."

The pen Cuddy had been about to write with hit the paper at the wrong angle and careened off into the dim light of the office. Of all the things she had expected him to say. That hadn't been one of them.

"Seriously?!"

"Don't get your hopes up." He muttered and turned slowly, letting himself settle back against the desk looking down at her with an unidentifiable expression on his face. "I was there to make sure Tawny didn't bolt."

"Oh." Cuddy fidgeted a moment. "How did it go?"

"Well, we sat there for about two hours in silence."

Cuddy looked up at him sharply. "Why?"

"To prove that she could." House shrugged. "She's terrified. She's going to take back control wherever she can get it and, even if that means speaking only when she wants to, it's what she's going to do."

"Who did she pick? Who'd let her just _sit there_ for two hours?"

"_I_ picked Farber. He's got the personality of a potato chip and he's going through a shitty divorce right now, but that's because his wife is sick of him manipulating her."

"Tawny let you pick?"

"No, I told her that was how it was going down. I also told her that she only had to go through the motions to get signed off. She thinks that Farber is going to be easy to fool."

Cuddy's head kicked back in understanding.

"Is he?"

"Not for an amateur like Tawny. She could probably kill him without leaving a mark on his body, but I don't think she can think around him yet."

"That's a slightly disturbing image." Cuddy pondered it for a moment and then shuddered.

"Not as disturbing as some of the stuff she finally started talking about." House rubbed a hand over his face and Cuddy finally identified the odd tone in his voice. He sounded more than a little shaken up. Cuddy's hand tightened on her new pen. If it was enough to make House nervous then it must have been horrific. He heaved a sigh and let his hand drop to rest back on the head of his cane. "She's a lot more fucked up than I originally thought. The only reason that she hasn't been reduced to a drooling wreck before now is because she's got a stubborn streak a mile wide."

"Wonder who that reminds me of." Cuddy drawled without thinking and then stilled under his gaze when it swivelled to land on her.

"Yeah, well, my loose screws are more than well documented. Hers were blacked out by the French government." He was quiet a moment. "I wonder if we're doing the right thing."

"We're doing the only thing we can do." Cuddy told him softly and laid her hand over his arm. "She will get through this. We'll help her."

He looked down at her hand on him and then up at her.

"You were right, by the way."

"Of course I was." Cuddy said immediately to cover her shock. She'd never have thought House would have said those words to her. "About what?"

"You were right to want to cut off my leg. I should have let you."

Cuddy sat back in her chair and blinked at him. He was forever surprising her tonight.

"Uh…" She swallowed hard. "You've had quite a day of it haven't you?"

"Yeah." He moved from the desk and limped around it. He dropped down into the chair opposite her and she sat forward. He was about to drop something on her from a great height. Something bad. This was the thing he had been thinking about that morning. "I need to talk to you."

"Is this a doctor thing or…the other thing?"

He looked uncomfortable.

"One and then the other. The first thing is…well, it's a new treatment from Germany. It's to do with Ketamine."

"The animal tranquiliser?" She frowned at him fiercely. What the hell kind of scheme was he cooking up now?

House swallowed a sigh. This was going to be a _long _conversation.


End file.
